Kings and Queens
by ForeverDarkly
Summary: A long series of One Shots going through all of Season One, Season Two and Season Three, all adding Tate to the episodes. Season One now complete.
1. Pre Pilot

Author's Note- This was inspired by some of the reviews I got for **Blonde vs. Brunette. **Someone mentioned I should so more stories like that, so I sat down and thought about it. This is what I came up with. The same "warning" that I posted with **Blonde vs. Brunette **applies here; just use your imagination and pretend Tate was in the episode. This is something I've been working on for fun, so I hope you guys like this.

Oh! For this story and especially this first chapter, pretend Dark Room and all that didn't happen, just for 'plot' sakes. I'm done now. Lol.

**--Pre-Pilot--  
****Hired**

Something was very wrong; the shrill ring of her house phone did not belong on a private beach with pool boys fanning her and a cool umbrella drink in her hand; oh hell no, it did not belong. With a groan, Tatum King found herself moving from one side of her queen sized bed over to the other where the night stand sat next to it and groped around on the smooth polished table top until she found her cordless phone.

"It's eight in the morning on my day off, this better be good." She ground out, not caring if it was her boss, best friend or father on the other line.

"Morning Princess." Tate rolled her eyes and flopped backwards into her plush gray blankets.

"You are so not who I wanted to hear from this early."

"It could've been your dad."

"Don't remind me, now what do you want Winchester?"

"I need your help."

"Didn't you hear me, it's my day off."

"Yeah well, I don't need help putting a newspaper article together or taking pictures."

"I'm not getting out of bed to do research for you, try somewhere else."

"No research."

"Than what kind of help Dean?"

"The 'get your ass out here' help."

"No can do, I have a dead line coming up, banquet for my soon to be retired editor and a new intern to train; busy."

"Tate, I need you."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that. Where are you?"

"A few hundred miles out of New Orleans."

"Headed?"

"Stanford."

"What! Why are you going there?"

"Need Sam too."

"Like hell you need him, you're not taking him away from school."

"Tate, he's my…"

"I don't care, let him stay. He's doing really good there and he's happy. Leave him be."

"I will if you come out and meet me."

"Dean, I'm in Boston; California is at least a week's drive from here."

"It's going to take me a few days; I've got something to take care of before I get out to Sam."

"Like what?"

"Its not important, I just need you to meet me."

"Not until you tell me what you're up to." Tate heard him sigh and smiled. "You caved."

"Shut up. Dad's missing."

"Have you tried my dad?"

"No answer, said to call you."

"And your dad is to call you. What are they going to do when the both of us don't pick up?"

"No clue. So are you coming out here?"

"I have to get my shit together, but yes I'll be there. Anything else?"

"You still in bed?"

"Yeah, you woke me up dickhead." She said with a yawn as she got comfortable again, the phone between her ear and the pillow. The ash colored blanket was pulled up over her shoulder and with a sigh, let her eyes slip shut for a few seconds.

"So umh…Tae, whatcha wearing?"

"Dean!"

"What? You asked for it, telling me you're in bed."

"Its eight in the morning, where do you expect me to be? Out running a marathon? Asshole. Keep this shit up and I won't come help your sorry ass."

"I'll stop."

"You best. Where am I meeting you?"


	2. Pilot

**Pilot  
Moon Kissed**

The curb outside the Sherman Dormitories housed only two cars, a blacker than black restored Impala and a just as classic Mustang. With a whine like creak, one of the crimson doors on the Mustang opened and out slipped a shadowy form. The dark figure skirted across the overly manicured lawn, heavy boots leaving curled over and broken blades of grass in their wake, and headed toward the dimly lit entrance way to the co-ed dorms. Slinking up the cement steps, the figure reached for the door, easily pulling it open and snuck up a set of steps at the end of the hall, walking up to an open air hallway that lead to one of the two apartment like dorms. Coming to the second one, the apartment on the right, the figure reached behind them and gracefully pulled out a lock picking kit. The pale moon light bathed the wraith like form and the glow separated flesh and material from shadow; the darkness was erased and soon the form of a young woman appeared. Pale blue light painted auburn hair an icy red, it danced across a black leather jacket that was rucked up near the bottom letting a small sliver of tanned flesh get doused by the light and then tapered off with a thick studded belt that held up what looked like painted on jeans. With nimble thin leather glove covered hands, the young woman slid a thin file like instrument in and a second later, the door's lock clicked and she turned the knob, a dim light from a room further in slid over her hands. Slowly, she rose coming to an impressive full high for a woman and slipped inside, her dark clothing again hiding her. Even her foot falls seemed hidden, her thick soled boots barely making a sound as she maneuvered through the dorm; creeping toward where she figured the living room would be. The small hall way was decorated with stock pictures of flowers and badly painted landscapes; cheap looking pictures that reminded her of too many blurred hotels. Some smaller frames held pictures of friends and one was of a couple; the one person she was here looking for and an overly bubbly looking blonde; her upper lip curled.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing here?" Hearing a familiar voice, Sam's voice, her lip uncurled and was replaced with a smile, quickly following the sound; walking only a few more paces and wound up in the doorway of the living room. Smiling she watched the taller figure, a young man she used to help with his cursive writing and long division, stare down the smaller one, his older brother and permanent thorn in her side.

"Well I was looking for a beer." Dean answered and she swore she heard her eyes rotate in their sockets.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Okay, all right, we gotta talk."

"Uh, the phone?"

"If I'd have called, would you have picked up?"

"He picks up when I call." She said, finally making her presence known and stepped from the shadows, the moon light streamed into the room in wide shafts and painted her better than it did when she was outside. The blue light picked up everything and anything about her; from the small gold stud in her nose to the darker and light strands of red in her long cascading hair. The angled planes of her face were doused in the blue light, making her look like something she normally tracked down and killed, her eyes sparkled and burnt at the same time and a deadly and gorgeous smirk now resided on her lips.

"Tate." Sam whispered as the two crossed the old tiled floor, meeting in the middle and for the first time in a long time, Tate fell into a warm safe embrace. His long arms seemed to wrap around her frame twice; her arms barely locked around his broad shoulders. Pushing back, she looked at him and reached up, slowly pushing away some of his shaggy hair.

"Sam?" Tate jumped away from him the minute she heard a new voice and as the light flicked out, she winced at the new found brightness in the room.

"Jess, hey. Dean, Tate, this is my girlfriend Jessica." Sam said making the quick introductions as Tate fell back; hiding in the pale moon light that came in through the window. Jessica eyed the woman bathed in blue, watching the way the light colored her skin and made her look like something creepy out of a horror movie; she didn't like the feeling she got from her.

"Wait, your brother Dean?" Jess asked, looking at Dean.

"I love the Smurfs. You know I gotta tell you, you are completely out of my brother's league." Tate could hear the smirk in Dean's voice and rolled her eyes.

"Just let me put something on." Jessica said, slowly backing out of the room and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Please do that, I don't know if I can handle much more." Tate ground out tilting her head and allowing the blue light to shine fully on her hair, making it look electric and alive.

"No, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it…Seriously, don't listen to Tate. Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business, but, uh, nice meeting you.

"No. No. Whatever you wanna say you can say it in front of her." Sam told his brother, stepping up next to Jess.

"Okay. Um…dad hasn't been home in a few days."

"So he's working over-time on a "Miller Time" shift; he'll stumble back in sooner or later." Tate stayed out of the boys conversation and watched Jess carefully, her eyes trained on the blonde.

'"Dad's on a _hunting _trip and he hasn't been home in a few days."

"Jess, excuse us. We have to go outside." Tate watched the boys leave, her lavender eyes following them around the corner and then walked over to the small blue couch, dropping down and propping her feet up on the small coffee table. Her chunky combat boots landed on the polished surface with a thud, damp mud that clung to the grooves in the soles fell onto the wooden table top.

"Umh...could you get your feet off my furniture?" Tate looked up at the blonde and with a flick of her wrist; a breeze wafted through the living room and blew into the girl. Tate smiled devilishly, her red lips pulled tight over white teeth and watched the younger girl stumble, trying to regain her footing.

"What was that?"

"Dunno...the wind?"

"Look, Sam might allow this kind of behavior while you're around with him, but I am not going to let you act this way in my home. I won't stand for this whole 'bad-ass' attitude around here." Tate stood, looking the girl in the eye and smiled at the power she had over her, the power to make the blonde cupcake shrink away under her glance.

"Listen Sugar..."

"It's Jessica."

"Listen _Sugar_, I've got a good four years on you, five inches without these boots and a good twenty pounds, do you honestly think that whole 'I won't stand for this' crap is gonna work? Let me answer that for you; its not. You don't scare me."

"You don't scare me either."

"I terrify you. You're looking at me like I'm a monster, good girl. I'm not here to make friends with you. I'm here to get Sammy and then find John and hopefully, my father too. And before you even think it, yes I have a father and no, I wasn't spawned from like Satan's Magical Stew in a cauldron or something equally as stupid." Jess looked dumb founded, how did Tate know about that sarcastic remark she thought up?

"Hey Sugar, you got a beer?" Tate called from the kitchen, the back of her tall frame illuminated in the fridge's light. She looked like hell fire and bruised embers all rolled into one; the light creeping up her back and her front colored in shadow, save her eyes that glowed in the faint moon light. To Jess, she looked exotic and dangerous, beautiful and evil all at the same time. There was a part in her that was jealous of her simple, exotic, rebellious and elegant beauty and another part that hated her, hated her from the minute she sensed another female's presence in her home.

"No, we're out." Jess answered simply as Tate shut the door, the light faded away and she was left alone with the wraith like form. She even moved liked a shadow, barely stepping on the ground, it was more like gliding and hovering mixed together. Tate looked at her and sighed, picking at her polished nails.

"You bore me." Tate said, boredom dripping from her voice. Spinning on her heel, she turned toward the front door and went out into the moonlight in search of Sam and Dean.


	3. Wendigo

**--Wendigo--  
****I Want Candy**

"And what do you mean I didn't pack provisions?"

Tate rolled her eyes as she watched Dean pull out the bright yellow bag; peanut M&Ms. He not only had no 'real' food, but now he was trying to kill her; great. Pushing past Hailey or whatever her name was; it wouldn't matter once this gig was over and Tate was back in the Mustang putting miles between them; heading toward the next hunt, and walked up the small hill leading her deeper into Black Water Ridge. Her boots gripped over rocks, sliding over roots and kicking up dirt. Stepping toward Dean, she wrapped her fingers around his elbow and with a smirk, pulled him into her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Hailey blush and pressed a kiss on his face, right below his left ear.

"Baby?" She purred, her other hand coming up to the opposite side of his neck; her fingers gently brushing across his skin.

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Do you remember what happened last time I had peanut M&Ms?" She asked, pulling back to watch his face, to see if he actually did remember what had happened.

"Uh..."

"Drawing a blank? Let me refresh your memory. I had four and my throat closed up. I'm deadly allergic. Deadly allergic and that's what you bring; jackass." She said, hitting him in the back of the head. Watching him rub the base of his neck, where her hand had been, she smiled and backed away.

"Tate..."

"Save it. Sam!" Tate yelled, jogging to catch up with the younger Winchester and whe she did, she bumped his hip with her own.

"What's up?"

"He forgot again." Sam laughed and plucked a red bag from his inside jacket pocket. Dropping them in Tate's hand, she smiled and bumped him again.

"Thanks Kiddo."


	4. Dead in the Water

**Author's Note: Remember when I said to forget about _Dark Room_ and all that for this 'side-project'? I need you guys to remember two things; Tate's twin brother Garrett and how he died. It's mentioned really quick somewhere in this chapter. Other than that, I'm done. Oh, a new Dark Winds chapter should be up before Monday. I've been really busy and I haven't had time to sit and write a lot. But I'm on it. Now, onto this new chapter. **

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**--Dead in the Water--  
****Kid Talk**

Tate hung her wet jeans up over the curtain rod in the shower, right next to her dripping hoodie and shirt, and carefully arranged them so everything fit. Sam's clothes hung the same way over the towel rack and Dean's were draped across the heater out in the main room. Pushing a hand through her shower wet hair, she pulled down a strand and put it under her nose; it smelt like strawberries. Anything was better than the scent of stale pond water.

She had no problem 'saving the day'; jumping in after Sam and Dean to save Lucas, she just didn't enjoy dragging herself out of the murky water smelling like it. She had been covered in algae and other pond like vegetation. For twenty minutes before stepping under the hot spray of the shower, Tate had been plucking pond sea weed off her skin. Hearing a knock on the door; she jumped away from the mirror and pulled it open; Dean.

"Hey."

"Just making sure you didn't drown."

"Ha-ha Dean, what do you want?"

"Can I use the sink?" Pushing the door open all the way, she let him in and went back to the mirror, hair brush in hand. Tate watched Dean's reflection brush his teeth and when he finished, come up behind her.

"You don't smell like pond anymore."

"Glad you noticed. Neither do you." She said, spinning around to face him. "You smell clean; much better."

"Anything is better than pond water."

"My thoughts exactly, but we smelt that way for a good reason. You saved Lucas."

"Yeah, I did."

"Don't deny it, you're proud of yourself and you should be. If you hadn't jumped in after him, he would've drowned."

"Last time something like that happened…"

"No Garrett talk. I don't want to hear about it." She said, closing her eyes tight; she had a feeling he'd bring her brother up. She knew he would say something the minute the three of them had trudged out of the lake earlier. Tate saw it in his eyes, Sam's too. Her brother's death was still too fresh in her mind; even it had happened nearly eight years prior.

"Okay, I'll stop."

"Thank you. Anyways, Lucas really likes you, I can tell. You're good with him."

"Good with him?"

"Yeah, I saw you and him in the park the other day; drawing and playing army men. You were good with him; it was a nice change De. It was sweet."

"Sweet?"

"I haven't developed a stutter since I came in here, you heard me. It was just another side of Dean Winchester; the sweet, caring nice side. I had no clue that you were good with kids." Dean starred at her for a few minutes, examining her.

"Is that you're way of saying you want kids? Kids of your own." Tate couldn't help it, it just happened; a loud obnoxious giggle escaped her. "Tate?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Dean, I didn't mean to laugh. I know you're serious, it just caught me off guard."

"So yes or no?"

"No. And besides, I can't have kids." She said with a shrug as she pushed away from Dean and started packing up her things; they were leaving in the morning and she couldn't afford to lose anything.

"Can't have kids? Why?"

"Just can't. Umh…my 'stuff' is umh…for a lack of a better term; broken."

"How do you know?"

"I was told by about four doctors."

"When did this happen?"

"When I was twenty. Dean, its not a big deal." She told him, dropping her contact solution into her small bag.

"It is a big deal. How'd you find out? What did the doctors say and why didn't you tell me?" Dean asked, looking at her as she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She hated telling this story; it was such a waste of her time.

"I found out by accident, I went in for an umh…damn, I need the right words and not gross you out at the same time." Dean Winchester could dig up dead bodies, salt and burn bones, kill monsters and all that, but girl stuff made him shiver. "…it was just a girl-doctor check up. Doctor told me both of my ovaries…" Dean shivered. "…are shot to shit and there's like a teeny tiny, microscopic chance that I'll ever have kids. And why didn't I tell you? We weren't speaking. Again, its not a big deal. Dean, I'm okay with it."

"I'm not…"

"Let it stew in your head for seven years and you'll be okay with it too."

"You're really okay with this?" He asked, pulling her into his arms.

"I'm more than okay, I'm peachy. Now, I'm going to bed and if you don't want me to pass out behind the wheel of my car tomorrow, you'll let me go to sleep." She slipped out of his arms and out to their bed. Sam was sound asleep when she dropped down onto the mattress, the blankets pulled up to his neck and head buried in the pillows. Ducking her head, she sighed and tugged at her hair.

"_Maybe I'm not that okay with it. Family means everything to Dean; why would he drag Sam back if it didn't? Family means everything to him and I'm 'broken'. Great. Just another crack in the mess that is 'Tate&Dean'." _She thought as she pulled back the covers and turned off the light.

The next morning before they left, Tate watched Sam and Dean say goodbye to Lucas and Andrea from the front seat of the Mustang and when Lucas waved to her; she smiled tightly, waved and then reached down to turn up her stereo.


	5. Phantom Traveler

**--Phantom Traveler--  
Mile High**

Tate's eyes snapped up from the article she had been reading; how to change your backyard into a summer get away, in _Better Homes and Gardens _when she felt the warmth on her right disappear. She looked up just in time to see Sam sliding out of the row, pushing past Dean.

"Where are you going?"

"Calm down Dean. I'm just going to the bathroom." Sam said, rolling his eyes at his older brother. Once Sam was gone, Tate undid her seat belt, left the outdated magazine behind and slid into Sam's seat; pressing herself into Dean's side.

"What do you want?"

"Sammy's right, you have to calm down."

"Calm down!? This plane is going to crash!"

"Dean!" Tate yelped, clamping her hand down over his mouth. "You can't say things like that up here!"

"Well it's true!"

"I know it is, but everyone else doesn't. Now you need to calm down."

"I can't!"

"Yes you can, take a deep breath."

"I told Sam before…"

"I'm not Sam and I have ways to make you do things. Now De, just take a deep breath. If you don't, this damn spirit could possess you; like Sammy said, and I have no problem exorcising you myself. Holy Water, crosses, a Bible, Latin and all, the whole bit. So you wanna try that deep breath now De?" Tate giggled when she heard him take a deep breath and then let it out with a shudder.

"That's my boy, good job De." She whispered into his ear and then kissed his ear lobe.

"Tate…"

"Shh, just relax babe." She told him; the hand she had on his knee fanned out and her fingers slowly skirted across his thigh.

"Tate, this isn't going to help me relax."

"It has before, especially after a hunt." She told him, kissing his throat.

"C'mon Tate, this isn't fair." He whined; one of his hands finding her hip and squeezed; a squeak escaping her lips when he did that and then laughed when she felt him trace the outline of her tattoo there.

"Who needs to relax now?"

"I'm fine Dean."

"You hate planes just as much as I do." He said, kissing her exposed collar bone.

"I do hate planes, but with you, they're fun." She told him putting a kiss here, nip there and another kiss somewhere else. Dean had his hand creeping up the back of her tight t-shirt, sliding over tattoos and sliding up to her shoulders when the sound of someone clearing their throat caused them both to jump. Tate looked up at the stewardess and smiled sweetly.

"Yes?" She asked, batting her eye lashes.

"Could you two keep it down? You're disturbing other passengers."

"Yeah, sorry. Ya know, newly weds going on their honeymoon." Tate answered with that sickly sugary smile.

"I do understand, but could you wait until we land?" The older woman asked; her face pulled into a tight fake smile.

"Of course we can."

"Thank you."

"Not a problem." Once she was gone, Tate stuck her tongue out at the back of her head and rolled her eyes. "How much time do we have until…ya know?"

"About a half hour."

"Oh good, we have time." She said, stepping out into the aisle. Grabbing Dean by the wrist, Tate dragged him to the back of the plane and pushed him into one of the empty, too small airplane bathrooms. She was about to follow him when she Sam out of the corner of her eye.

"What are you two doing?"

"Joining a club. Get out of here and go watch out for that other stewardess."

"Go Sammy, now." Tate said, closing the door behind her and switching the lock to 'occupied'


	6. Bloody Mary

**--Bloody Mary--**  
Bruises

Tate had a thing for bruises. On Dean it was almost a kink. There was something about a bright purple bruise on his cheek or just below his collar bone that drove her nuts. Normally the ones on his collar bone were her own doing. But on herself it wasn't a kink, it was a personal preference. Bruises to her were like war paint and battle scars all rolled into one. They were her bragging rights, her stripes, and medals; they made her feel like she was the hunter she was trained to be. They left a deep dull ache just below the surface, a rainbow of colors left behind in their wake and even once the skin went back to its normal pigment, they were still visible. She didn't know why, but she loved them. Sure, sometimes she looked like the poster child for a battered women's' shelter but she loved them none the less. Sure people starred and wondered what had happened to her, but she didn't care, she was proud of each one. Tate had ones from being thrown into walls, through walls, right through doors, up against furniture and even some from the guys. It was usually the imprint of Sam's shoe that would appear on her thigh from being flung across a room or Dean's finger tips from hurried 'personal time' that never got past bra clasps and belt buckles. They were all over her; large blotches of sickly yellow green discoloration to tiny pin points of purple.

Standing in the bathroom, with harsh white blue light streaming down on her, Tate wrung out the excess water from the face cloth she had and wiped away the trails of blood that dripped down her cheeks. Looking in the mirror, she watched her hand sweep across her face and found the familiar bruise on the back of her hand starring at her from the back of her hand. Putting down the towel, red still clinging to her cheeks, and looked at her hand; starring intently at something only she could see. Right across the four ridges of her knuckles, slipping into the valleys between each bone, was a darker stripe of skin; a large bruise. It actually looked like paint that she couldn't get out of the ridges of her skin and was waiting for it to fleck off on its own, but that was far from the truth and a lie Tate usually used when someone caught sight of it. It was eight years old and never once fully faded. Tate had put her fist through a wall the day of Garrett's funeral, broke all the bones in her hand and jammed her wrist; the dark blotch of skin never healed. It had been stitched and closed back together by her father; the scars faded but not the discoloring. Running her finger tip over her knuckles; she could still feel the plaster giving way, the installation brushing against her skin and then the jolt of the support beam she hit. She had a matching stain, a little older than the one on her hand, dripping across her shoulder from the snap of her seatbelt when Dean's Ram Charger took the nose dive over the bridge. Tate saw the spirit shoving the car, the guard rail breaking, the water growing closer and then heard the splash of the Charger breaking the surface of the river below. Her eyes opened with a quick audible snap and found Dean looking at her in the mirror, Sam hanging back in the doorway.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

"Never better. Sammy, you need the bathroom? I'm done in here." She said, dropping the face cloth into the sink and then walked out; both of them tailing behind her like kicked puppies. Tate hated when they got this way, over protective and asking if she was fine; it irked her. Dropping down onto the bed, Tate pulled her knees up under her chin and looked up at them.

"What was your secret?"

"What was yours Dean?"

"Tate, I asked you first." She took her eyes off of Dean and looked down at the floor. She didn't want to answer him; she didn't want to have this conversation. Lighting her permanently bruised hand up, she showed it off and sighed.

"Bruises and secrets go hand and hand." Tate told them as she grabbed her cigarettes and headed out. Dean sighed, knowing now what her secret had been and took her place on the bed as Sam followed her. Sam found her sitting on the hood of the Impala, a cigarette dangling between her lips and the lighting twirling through her fingers. She looked like the fallen angels he had researched as a child; black broken wings curling around a bruised and battered body, lit in enteral flames with sadness painted into their eyes. Flicking away the cigarette, she pulled out another and lit it; a repeat preformance.

"Those will kill you, ya know."

"I've been told." She said as Sam walked over and sat next to her, plucking the cigarette from her lips and tossing it onto the ground. "Hate you."

"I've been told. So, are you okay?"

"Told you before, never better."

"Liar."

"Okay, maybe a litte. I'm not okay."

"Thought so. Wanna tell me whatever Dean knows?"

"Oh, the secret? I figured he didn't know, but guess he does. My dad probably told him."

"Tell me."

"All right." She sighed, ran a hand through her hair and as a nervous reflecx, flicked the lighter on and off a few times. "About a year before Garrett died, so when I was seventeen, do you remember when my dad took just me to Nevada for a hunt? This witch thing out there, kind of like a Wendigo but not?"

"Yeah, I think so. Anyways?"

"Oh, so we torched the bitch two days in and dad planned on being out there for six, so we drove in Vegas for four days. While he was out gambling, I was out prowling the Strip and ran into a fortune teller/pyshic/voodoo-hoodoo woman. She asked if I wanted my fortune and palm read, tarot cards done and all that crap, so I said what the hell, paid her twenty bucks and got my stuff done. Long healthly life, good paying job, nice place to crash in, good friends and then oohhh...that's not good. So I ask her what's up and she tells me someone, the same age as me and very close to me is going to die a year from that day. I laughed at her and called her a liar, and then she started talking about my mom, dad and Rett. She told me it would involve four of us, in something and water..."

"The bridge."

"Yeah, but she didn't say anything about the bridge. Just that you, me and Dean would make it out and my 'double' wouldn't. I flipped out, took my money back and left. I told my dad and he said it was just a gag and not to worry. And then what happens a year later? We're free falling over that damn bridge and Garrett drowned. I could've done something."

"What? Told Garrett? Tate, it wouldn't have worked."

"Yeah, but I would've known, I tried to save him."

"Believe me, it wouldn't have worked."

"Believe you? What am I missing? Something about Jess?"

"Maybe."

"Your turn kiddo, I had to spill my guts."

"I knew about Jess' death before it happened too, I just didn't believe it."

"Well look where we are? Missing things."

"Hey, you've got me and Dean."

"I know. And you've got me and Dean too." Tate said, flicking her lighter again.


	7. Skin

**Yes, I know I haven't updated this in about a month, but I'm so on it now. Haha. I'll have the next "episode" which is _Hook Man_...I think...hehe...posted sometime tomorrow, its just too late to type it all up tonight, I'm so tired. Lol. But anyways, here's _Skin. _I changed some tiny things, but nothing huge. So I hope you guys like this and I promise, I'll have the next chapter up tomorrow. Keep reading and reviewing. --BE****

* * *

**

**Skin  
**Personal Property

Tate rushed into Rebecca's house after she heard two shots being fired; she had been out by the Impala doing an inventory of the 'armory' and then came the familiar ring of one of her own hand guns, the one she had given Dean before he ran inside since all of his were still locked up in the back. She nearly tripped up the ornate front steps and tumbled into the destroyed living room as the Shape Shifter dropped; two shots in its faux-Dean chest. At the end of her fast paced stumble into the room, she nearly fell into Dean who was still standing frozen in what Tate referred to as his 'hero/gun-slinger stance'; she normally told him that amidst a string of giggles after a hunt and a beer, and put both hands on the small of his back so she wouldn't fall face first into his shoulder blades. Tightening her grip on the back of his jacket, she stood on her tip-toes and looked over his tense shoulder; Rebecca was already helping Sam to his feet and the Shifter was still draped over what had been an ottoman. That thing scared her; it even fell to the ground like Dean would if he fell, most likely thrown across a room by some 'freak-of-the-week' bad guy.

"Fucking creepy." She muttered into the side of his neck as she starred. "Can we…I dunno, burn the bastard?" She asked, looking up at Dean. He didn't answer her; in fact he didn't even notice she had been hanging onto him for the past few minutes. With her eye brows knit together, Tate looked up at him and snapped her thumb and index finger in front of his nose.

"What Tate?"

"You still with me?"

"Sorry, did you ask me something?"

"Yeah, can we burn your doppelganger? Seeing 'you' over there dead is enough to pay my shrink a week in advance."

"I don't know what burning him will do."

"Outside of making me feel better, probably nothing. He'll probably find a Goddamn burn-proof body and escape with that new lovely skin coat. Gross. Sheds like a damn lizard. Ick, really gross. " Tate said with a shiver. She was about to say more when Sam appeared at her side.

"What's up String Bean?"

"I'm gonna head out to the car, meet you guys out there?"

"Yeah, we'll be right there Sammy. Sorry about the mess Rebecca." Dean said as Tate slipped away from him and walked over to the Shifter. Looking down at it, she cocked her head to the side, her long hair falling over her left shoulder and felt her upper lip curl.

"Again, gross." She muttered as she knelt down next to it and with a steady hand, reached over and closed it's eyes; Dean's green eyes. That unnerved her, having to see those familiar green eyes look up at her, lifeless and blank. No thanks; that was just a little too much for her. With her bottom lip pulled up under her top row of teeth, she looked at the Shifter again and held back a gasp. Bastard Shifter not only copy and pasted every one of Dean's memories, he took his necklace too.

"Oh my dead Copy Cat friend, you are so lucky I wasn't the one to shoot you. All of those nasty things to said to me and Sammy, tsk tsk. I would've shoot you right between the eyes twice; once to kill you, you son of a bitch and the second time just for shits and giggles. I'll give you one thing; you are one good looking son of a bitch." She said as she plucked the black cord off of its chest. Wrapping her long fingers around the familiar gold charm, she tugged it away from the Shifter's neck, feeling the knot in back give way, and pooled the cord in the palm of her hand. Closing her fingers down around it, she stuffed it in her front pocket of her jeans and trotted back over to Dean, sweeping her hair off both shoulders and let it fall down her back.

"What were you doing over there?"

"Oh nothing really just threats of eternal damnation, burning in fiery pits of Hell and all that lot, ya know; the normal send off I like to give the dead baddies."

"Freak."

"Yeah, what do you want from me? A yellow rose and funeral service? I think not. So, can we get out of here? I've had enough for one night."

"Yeah, let's go."

"Besides, I gotta check on Sammy and see what the Evil Twin did to him." Rolling his eyes, Dean slung an arm over her shoulder and the two walked out of the house. The ride back to the hotel was silent, save Tate humming along to some song only she knew every word to. Once they pulled into the hotel parking lot, Tate blotted from the backseat and rushed the door; using the key she had lifted from Dean's jacket when the Shifter was wearing it, claiming she had 'called' the shower first. Sam and Dean rolled their eyes and followed after her, by the time they shut the door, the shower was already running.

An hour, three showers, a couple band-aids, ten bucks worth of crap from the two vending machines down the hall and several whines from Tate; that went ignored of course, about crappy hotel television later; Sam, Tate and Dean had taken their regular spots on the bed and with the TV on mute, all started winding down. Sam was out, dead to the world and showed no signs of waking up until the next morning while Dean drifted in and out; his head resting on Tate's shoulder as she idly flipped through the three notches below basic cable.

"Dean. Dean. Dean, move. Get off my shoulder."

"…huh?" He asked, blinking a few times.

"And this is why Sam's the smart one."

"What? I was asleep."

"I know, I need to get up."

"For what?"

"Oh I dunno, I can't sleep in my contacts."

"Oh, yeah sure." He moved away, back to his side of the bed and stole one of her pillows; his arms latching around it with that vice like grip of his. Rolling her eyes, she got out of bed and walked toward the bathroom, not before she paused at her duffel bag. Pulling out her jeans from earlier, she tugged out her pocket and watched Dean's necklace fall back into her hand. Standing back up, she went back over to the bed and pushed him on the shoulder until he turned to look at her.

"What do you want? I thought you were taking your contacts out?" He asked trying to hold back a yawn.

"I'm on that. Put your head down."

"What? Why?"

"Just do it, Jesus. Pain in the ass." She muttered as he bent his head down and she looped the black cord around his neck. Retying it quickly, so she wouldn't have to hear him whine, Tate patted him on the shoulder and watched him sit back up.

"Where did you get that?" Dean asked, rolling the charm around in his fingers.

"Pulled it off the Shifter."

"No last rights?" He asked with a smirk.

"Not this time. Damn thief had it so I umh…stole it back."

"I didn't even notice it was gone."

"Because you're stupid. See, told you I'm the brains of this outfit."

"Only when Sam's not around."

"Of course. Now, I have to go take out my contacts." She said as she stood back up, only to be tugged back toward the mattress and have a kiss smashed onto her lips. Pulling back, Tate rolled her eyes and ran a tired hand through Dean's short hair, yanking on a few pieces toward the back.

"Thanks for taking it back, I would've remembered I lost it tomorrow afternoon about a hundred miles away from here."

"Again, the brains of this outfit. But you're welcome Jerk."

"Bitch."

"Damn straight."


	8. Hook Man

**Ok, another "episode" down. And I said I wasn't going to actually "work" over my vacation. I'm working on a bunch of new chapters for other stories, so have no fear, everything will be updated soon. Maybe not for the next two days, seeing as its Christmas, but I'll have things posted soon. Hope you guys like this. --B.E**

* * *

**Hook Man  
**College is Fun

Tate walked around the Frat House, a cliché red plastic cup clutched in between her fingers and pushed past another drunk wanna-be frat boy pledge in a letterman jacket who had tried to hit on her; a dare from his throng of giggling drunk frat boy friends. Please, Dean was bad enough when he was drunk, she didn't need to deal with a tripping over his own two feet drunk twenty year old dumbass jock; no thanks. Finding an empty corner that was occupied by horny college kids going at it as if the world was due to blow to pieces within the next twelve hours, Tate stood against the wall and looked out over the sea of moving, laughing and drunk bodies. This hadn't been her college experience; she spent most of her time on campus and locked away in the college's dark room. Spying Sam and Dean, she gave Sam and small wave and blew Dean a kiss and then went back to her getting warmer by the second beer. She had been standing there for about ten minutes when someone slipped into her personal space; shoulder brushing against shoulder and beer saturated breath warming her neck. Looking up through her mascara covered lashes; Tate rolled her eyes when she found herself starring at the same drunk letterman jacket wearing Jock.

"Hey there beautiful, whatcha doin' over here all by yourself?" He slurred, beer sloshing out of his own red cup as he tried to keep himself upright. He was starring at Tate as if she was a blonde in spankies with pom-poms and pigtails.

"People watching."

"At a party?"

"Not the partying type."

"So why are you here?"

"Looking for a few friends."

"I'll be your friend." He purred, getting closer to Tate, she could smell every beer he had polished off come flying out of all of his pores and cheap cologne came along after it.

"Don't need anymore, thanks."

"Aww c'mon babe."

"Not your babe, sorry." She finished off her beer, dropped the cup into the nearest potted plant and pushed away from the wall, only to have the Jock grab her by the elbow. He pulled her right into his space, right back where she had been standing. He was way too close for comfort. "Get away from me."

"Just wanna be your friend."

"I said no. Now get away." She was tempted to blow him away or electrocute him but couldn't, not in front of tall of those people, drunk or not there was a chance someone would remember something. Damn drunken kids.

"Aww c'mon."

"Tate?" Looking over the kid's shoulder, she saw Dean and smiled.

"Baby! There you are! Been looking for you all night!" Tate practically squealed as she pushed away the jock and fell into Dean's arms. "Lets go, I want to go to bed." She purred, laying it on thick as she tugged at his jacket.

"Sure thing babe." Dean led her away, through the crowd of people and outside where the party had spilled out onto the lawn. The Impala sat near the curb and Dean pulled out the keys.

"Where are we going? That was just an act to get me away from that jerk-off." Tate said as she popped the passenger's side door and fell gracefully into the seat.

"I know, but we're going to the cemetery."

"You really know how to show a girl a good time." Dean looked at her with _that_ look and she sighed. "Why are we going there?"

"We need to find an unmarked grave."

"My favorite kind. Can I carry a shovel?"

"No."

"No fun De."

"Like you're going to help dig up the bastard."

"I'm not; I'm going to do what I usually do."

"Yeah, sit there and watch me shovel dirt."

"Hey! I point the flashlight into the damn hole! And that's exactly what I plan on doing; sit there with my flashlight and watch you do the dirty work. Maybe I'll even hand you the salt, lighter fluid and my good lighter."

"So much help."

"That's why I get paid the big bucks." Dean rolled his eyes at Tate as she pulled the seat belt across her and plugged it in on the opposite side of her seat. "I always wanted to meet the Hook Man and I forgot my autograph book; now we have to burn his bones. That sucks."

"You're warped."

"It's the company I keep. Drive Shovel-Man."

"How much did you have to drink?"

"Enough to make me enjoy going grave robbing with you, hot stuff." Tate said, with a laugh, as Dean pulled the Impala away from the curb.


	9. Bugs

**I know! I know! Bad B.E! Bad, bad B.E! I know, I feel bad about this too, not updating this in like a month. But I bring you all a chapter and promises that more are on the way by the end of this week. Now, onto this chapter. None of the ideas, well just how they got to certain ones, belong to me. I got a lot of "inspiration" from WinchestersGirl, who so helped me with the idea for this chapter, I don't remember if I thanked her, but thanks. haha, I forget when I do things like that. I used three of the ideas she emailed me and mushed them all into one funny conversation between Tate and Dean. I hope you guys like this.

* * *

****Bugs  
**Bathroom Conversations 

Tate had nothing against squatting in a soon-to-be sold, semi-furnished house; the place was clean, the bathroom didn't look like someone had been murdered in there or one huge health code violation and there was no dipping into her savings account to help Dean pay for a room with a thermostat that hadn't worked since the seventies. She had plans on enjoying their temporary stint as not-so homeowners. She had taken what was supposed to be a quick shower until Dean hopped in with her; all plans of letting the conditioner in her hair sit for a few minutes went out the window the minute he kissed her and Tate found herself pressed up against the shower wall. As soon as their private tour of the steam shower was over, Tate rinsed off and slipped out, leaving Dean to take an actual shower. Tate traded helping Sammy with research and messing around on the internet for 'girl-time' in the bathroom, even if Dean was there. She blocked out the sound of the shower running as she hummed a Jimmy Buffett song under her breath and for the first time in a long time actually spent more than five seconds shaving her legs. As she started on her right leg, Jimmy Buffett and the sound of the water running were joined with a not too bad version of Ozzy's _Iron Man_. Dean had had obviously forgotten she was there and was slowly making his way to the refrain.

"I can hear you!" Tate shouted over the noise and twisted around just in time to see the shower door scrape against the track. Dean's wet head peaked out to look at her and cocked an eye brow in her direction.

"What are you doing?" He asked, swiping away some of the water that was on his face. Tate had one foot up on the towel covered toilet seat, a disposable pink razor in hand and was tempted to throw her thing of travel size shaving cream at him.

"Dying my hair, what does it look like I'm doing?" She asked; her hand on her hip.

"Shaving your legs."

"Good boy. I couldn't do this the other morning at the hotel, you only gave me ten minutes in the bathroom before threatening to leave me behind if I, and I quote, 'didn't get my ass out of the bathroom'."

"I didn't say that."

"Yes you did. And you're dripping all over the floor." She told him, finishing up her leg. With a few last swipes along her calf, her tanned skin was smooth again. Behind her, she felt Dean roll his eyes at her and ignored him; she wasn't in the mood to fight about getting kicked out of the bathroom; even if it was true.

"Hey Tate!?" Dean called from the shower, the puddle he had left on the floor was slowly linking up with the other ones and Tate had no plans on sopping it up; let him do it.

"Yeah De?"

"Ya know those two, Larry and Linda?"

"The developer and realtor, the ones that thought you and Sammy were gay?" Tate asked, trying not to giggle, again.

"It's still not funny Tate."

"Oh yes it is. Remember when Larry said they take any 'sexual orientation'? Your face was priceless. Aww man, whenever I'm in a shitty mood from now on, I'll just think back to that and be happy again. Oh God, pure perfection. Fucking priceless."

"Tatum…."

"I'm not done. And then Linda's face when I explained to her that I was your girlfriend and you were Sam's boyfriend after you slapped him on the ass. Aww man, now that…that's something to think back on whenever; bad mood or not. Her face; holy shit. That was great. I saw shock, disgust and I think I picked up a bit of jealousy. Hey honey, it's not my fault you don't have such good looking guys in your life. Get new friends." From inside the shower, she heard Dean practically growl.

"Are you done now?"

"Yeah baby, so what were you saying about them?"

"Do you think they're ya…going at it behind his Stepford wanna-be wife?" Tate's laughter echoed off the walls.

"What makes you think that De?"

"Dunno, Larry just gives off that feeling."

"He does, I picked it up too and it would be so easy; they work together and she's the only other person in the neighborhood right now. Late nights at the office, sneaking out to take the dog for a half hour long walk around the empty block or dropping off contracts right before his wife leaves for work. I could see it happening. But you do know who'd be the 'man' in that screwed up relationship, don't you?"

"Linda."

"Damn straight. Give her a leather corset and a cat of nine tails whip; she'd win Dominatrix of the Year award." She said casually, pulling her tooth brush out of her make-up bag, as Dean laughed under the spray coming from the shower head. "Oh yeah, you so know that under that tight lipped appearance there's an inner dominatrix just waiting to be cast in a cheap porno."

"What's wrong with you? Where do you come up with this shit?" He asked, laughing again as he turned the water off.

"What's wrong with me? You did this; messed me up from day one because you never shared your toys with me." She said as he got a towel thrown at him. Dean, after wrapping the towel around his waist, came up behind Tate and went to kiss her neck when a bang came from the other side of the door.

"Gah! It's Sammy." Tate muttered.

"Let him wait. Five more minutes." He mumbled, kissing her neck; warm from her damp hair covering the tanned skin.

"Tate! Dean! C'mon! A police call came in on the scanner, someone was found dead three blocks from here!" Tate burst out laughing and spun around in Dean's arms, her free arm snapped up and down; miming a whip and let a noise that sounded a lot like a sharp crack slip past her lips.

"Maybe the dominatrix got too rough with Larry." She said before laughing harder.


	10. Home

**Ok! Here's _Home. _I wanted to do something different with this one, so I did. There's very little Sam and Dean in this one, but that's what different, but a lot of Tate fighting with...I don't want to give it away. Haha, sorry. I'm mean that way. So...I hope you guys like this and if you have any "suggestions" for _Aslyum_ just drop them off. I'm not too sure what I want to do for the next "episode", I have a few ideas...Anyways, onto this chapter. So I'm shutting up and you guys can read. --B.E

* * *

****Home  
****A Father/Daughter Moment**

Tate walked into Missouri's house for the second time in three days; it probably wouldn't be the last time either, and followed the older woman back into her front sitting room. She knew this was where Missouri brought her customers who were in dire need of knowing exactly what lay around the next corner in their lives. Tate had never once in all her life believed that someone could have their future read to them or have some "magician" pluck it out of the air for them; to her it was all a gag. Well it was a gag until Missouri started ticking off facts about her that Sam and Dean didn't even know. She was brought back from her little three-day long trip down Memory Lane when she heard Missouri call out to her. She had given the older woman a ride home and was more than ready to get back to the hotel to help Sam and Dean pack up; the sooner Kansas was in her rear view mirror the better.

"Tatum, did you hear me dear? Come in here." Rolling her eyes and muttering something about being bossed around, Tate walked through the back hall and found herself standing in the doorway to Missouri's living room.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, child. Your father wouldn't be too happy knowing you were acting this way. And I'm not bossing you around; I have something to show you."

"I…I…I feel like I ten years old again and getting yelled at for holding a gun wrong." And she honestly did, she was used to being "scolded" anymore. Tate was pretty sure in her own mind that she grew out of that when she turned fifteen; by that time she could scream back and no one would do anything to her seeing as she was the only girl.

"Well you should, being smart with me. No wonder you and Dean are perfect for each other." Missouri mumbled something else before letting Tate see into the living room. "Go on in, he's been waiting to talk to you." Not many things shocked or surprised Tatum King, but seeing a ragged, well-worn John Winchester sitting on Missouri's couch floored her.

"John?" She whispered, taking a few baby steps into the room; not too sure if what she was seeing was real or not. Looking back over her shoulder she saw that Missouri was gone and could hear her puttering around in a different part of the house.

"Why do you look surprised? Come over here Izzy." Oh how Tate hated being called that, of all the nicknames she had; Violet, Kingy, Bitch, Autumn, Tae, Sparky and the other little stupid ones she'd get here and there, but out of all of them, Izzy was the worst. Ben started calling her that when she was young; for some reason Ben had this thing against calling his daughter by the name he had picked out and started calling her by a shortened version of her middle name; John just followed suit.

By the time Tate inched completely into the living room, getting closer to the couch with each shuffled step, John was on his feet and when she was close enough, pulled Tate into his arms. He felt like John, smelt like John and sounded like John, so she was seeing things or going crazy. She tensed up in his arms and felt him push her back so he could look at her.

"What's wrong Izzy?" Tate slapped his hands off of her shoulders and looked him square in the eye.

"What's wrong?! Are you kidding me? What's wrong? Lets see, Dean had been trying to call you for three days and I find you here at Missouri's house! Want to explain that?!"

"Izzy, I…."

"It was a hypothetical question, well for right now, I'm not done. I've been with the boys for months and all they've been doing is hunting and trying to find you! I swear to God John, if you tell me that you've been a step behind us since we left Stanford, I'll kill you."

"Izzy…"

"Call me that one more time and I swear I really will kill you." Tate said, her fist clenching and unclenching. John took a deep breath and looked at her. She hadn't changed one bit; she was still a fighter and now was fighting even harder.

"Tatum, I haven't been a step behind you since Stanford and I did get Dean's message, that's why I'm here."

"Yeah well, the case is done. You're too late."

"It's back." A dramatically waxed and trained dark brown eye brow arched up at him and almost touched Tate's reddish hair line. "The demon, I know it. It's back, something is going to happen."

"Then tell the boys."

"Not yet." Tate didn't know what happened, why she hadn't let all hell break lose, but she kept her temper in check and merely cursed.

"You bastard! You're going to keep them in the dark? You…I swear…ugh! Bastard!"

"Tatum Elizabeth, watch you…"

"Shut up John, you're not my father! Those boys have been looking for you for months! Dean would go to Hell and back for you and all Sammy wants is for you to be proud of him just once; but what are you doing? Hiding from them. You are a bastard. One of your boys is going to get themselves killed because of you, think you could live with that? And I swear if anything happens to either of them, you'll have me to deal with." She ended in a hiss; her eyes flashing and outside the clouds grew dark. Thunder growled and shook the house; Tate could feel the floor boards trembling beneath her.

"Wycker." John whispered with a small grin on his face and Tate tried to keep the shocked look out of her eyes; she needed to keep up the "angry-face" for a little bit longer. There was no way John would've known about that, Tate didn't tell him, Sam and Dean hadn't been able to talk to him long enough to spill any details and Ben didn't know a damn thing, so that left Missouri. She must've told John.

"Bastard." Tate snapped back, her eyes still locked on him.

"Psychopath."

"Lousy excuse for a father."

"Fighter."

"Ass."

"Hunter."

"John."

"Tate."

"Call your sons."

"Take care of them for me."

"Watch out for my father."

"Call your father." Tate nodded and John pulled her close again; squeezing her tighter than before. When she pushed away for the second time, John dropped something into her hand.

"Ben gave it to me." Tate looked down at the trinket in her hand; a brass coin with symbols etched into its surface. It was for protection. She pulled off her necklace and slipped in on there with her other charms; mostly other protection charms.

"He's paranoid. I can take care of myself."

"Bobby made it especially for you, gave it to your father and then he gave it to me to give to you when I told him I'd be here."

"Where is he?"

"Phoenix."

"Why?"

"Banshee."

"Lucky."

"He knew you'd say that." Tate smiled a little and then spun on her heel, walking out of the living room. When she got to the front door, Missouri was there holding it open for her. The older woman just looked at her for a second, seeming to see right inside her.

"What? You look like you're going to say something."

"Nothing really, just that you're more like your mother than I thought." She didn't say anything to her, just nodded and walked out to her car. Opening her door, she tossed the gun she usually had with her at all times into the passenger's seat and took a deep breath.

"I never realized how well you fixed up that car." John's voice pulled her back to Earth.

"Dean and Bobby helped."

"Keep her that way."

"I try."

"Bye Tatum."

"Bye John." A minute later, Scarlet's engine roared from under the hood and peeled away from the curb. As Tate drove back to the hotel to meet up with Sam and Dean, she fished out her cell phone and scrolled through her phone book, smiling somewhat when she found the number she wanted. **_Dad._**


	11. Asylum

**Asylum  
****Tough Love**

"DEAN!"

Sam's shout went ignored and unheard by the loud echoing crack that exploded from the end of Tate's gun; the one Dean had loaded with rock salt and gave her to carry. He was in shock, had he just seen what he thought he had? No, Tate didn't shot Dean, sending him flying through the rotting planks that covered up the doorway in the asylum's basement. No, Tate didn't do that, it was a trick of the light. He was seeing things. Maybe Ellicott's spirit had done something to him, screwed up his vision or was making him see things; maybe he was just going insane. That sounded good. He was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt something slam him up against the wall behind him, it felt like he had gotten hit by a freight train. Blinking a few times, he saw Tate standing a good foot away and slowly, he realized he hadn't been seeing things. She had shot Dean through the wall and now, she was using the wind she had called up to keep him where he was. A possessed Wycker, what were the chances?

"What are you looking at brat?" She snapped, keeping her hand outstretched, keeping him pinned to the wall and slowly made her way over to him. With her other hand, she snaked it around his waist and pulled out the sleek nine millimeter he had stuffed in the waistband of his jeans. She eyed it for a second, the look in her purple eyes honestly scared Sam; she looked like a kid who had just gotten everything she wanted for Christmas.

"Tate! Tate! What are you doing with that! Tate!"

"Shut up!" She said as she cocked the gun, taking the safety off and spun it around in her hand until it lined up with Sam's chest. "I am so sick of the both of you; you always bitching and whiny; stop acting like a damn baby. _Whaa, whaa, Jessica this, Jessica that. _Shut up already! Christ, I am so close to blowing my own Goddamn brains out. Get over it, you whiny little brat. She's dead, move on." Tate watched his face and swore she heard his jaw clench. "Struck a nerve huh? Good." Walking away from him, Sam tried to push himself off the wall, but it seemed that whatever she had done was, for the moment, permanent, and he was stuck there. Stuck there, meant he couldn't help Dean or Tate. This was all Ellicott's doing; he should've gone down to the basement when they had split up upstairs, instead of letting Tate go. Sam could hear Tate's boots cracking over the splintered remains of the wooden boards and clenched his eyes shut; she had a gun and was standing over Dean.

Looking down, Tate smiled wickedly. Dean was spread out on the floor, his hand clenching where the rock salt bullet had struck home and was groping around for something on the floor with his other hand. One of her leather boot clad feet kicked out, kicking his hand and then clucked her tongue. Kneeling down, she found what he was looking for and grabbed it.

"Do you think I'm that stupid Dean? This is as useless as the rock salt; it's empty." She cooed, tossing away the empty pistol. "I have the loaded one and you don't."

"Are you really going to shoot me? Hate me that much, baby?"

"Baby? _Baby_! So, I'm your baby when I'm standing over you with a loaded gun, but what am I when your hitting on those sleazy waitresses? Am I your baby then? Am I your baby when every 'damsel in distress' throws herself at your feet and begs you to make the monster in her closet go away? Well? What am I then?"

"Tate, that's enough, this isn't you talking. Just let me up, we'll find Ellicott's bones, burn them and then we can get out of here. "

"No, it is me talking Dean; you just haven't heard this because I'm not as important as all those other girls."

"Baby, you're more important than anyone else. Now let me up so I can help you."

"No!" Tate's fingers pulled back the trigger and the bullet that flew out of the chamber missed Dean's shoulder by inches. "That was a warning and you know, next time I won't miss."

"I know you won't, but I also know you'd never shot me."

"Don't count on that, you've hurt me before so what goes around comes around."

"I have never shot you." Dean wheezed, his chest hurt with each deep breath he took and Tate wasn't helping; well possessed Tate wasn't helping any by running around threatening to blow his head off.

"No, but would you like to know what a broken heart feels like?" She hissed as she crouched down again, this time straddling his chest and with both hands wrapped around the butt of the gun and shoulders tensed; ready for the recoil, pressed the muzzle of the gun to his chest. Dean watched as her index finger hovered above the trigger and for a split second felt a spike of pure terror fly through him; she was actually going to do this.

"You'll forgive me later." The crack that followed wasn't from the gun, but from Dean's fist connecting with the side of Tate's face; his knuckles driving into the top of her jaw and her temple. For a second it looked like he hadn't hurt her, all she did was shake her head as if she was clearing out the cobwebs, but then Dean watched her eyes roll back and with an ungracefully flail, fell to the side. "Sam!"

Whatever had happened with Tate was over, well almost, but as Sam fell he swore he heard someone else hit the floor at the same time; so if Dean was calling him it had to have been Tate. Picking himself up off the floor, his muscles tensed and relaxed; whatever she had used to hold him in place was gone; he just had to get used to it not being there again. He took a few cautious steps, gently walking through the somewhat Dean shaped opening and found Tate laying half on Dean's chest and half on the floor. Dean was somewhat hovering over her, checking out the already darkening bruise on the left side of her face.

"What did you do to her?"

"Hit her." He said as he pushed her egs off of him and gently curled her in on herself.

"Uh-huh, that's not what you said last time I walked in on something like this." Dean bit back a growl and flung a piece of the broken board at his younger brother.

"Shut up, stay with her." Sam nodded and took Dean's place as he dug out the lighter fluid, salt and his lighter. Cradling her head in his lap, Sam pushed some of her hair away from her face and took a quick look at the discoloring that was running the entire length of her jaw. "I can't wait till you see that, you're gonna kill him." Sam whispered, with a slight smile on his face. He didn't know how long it took Dean to burn Ellicott's bone, but one second he was starring at Tate's still features the next she was lurching up off the ground gasping for air.

"Tate? Are you okay?" Sam asked, catching her by the shoulders.

"Christ, the things I said...I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about that, I know you didn't mean it. But seriously, are you okay?" Sam sat back for a second, with Tate at an arm's lenght and watched her eyes go wide.

"He hit me! He hit me! Sam, he…he hit me!"

"Yeah well, you almost shot me." Looking up, her purple eyes bore into him and if she wasn't so dizzy, she would've been in his face.

"You hit me!" She shouted up at Dean, her voice echoing throughout Ellicott's private operating room. "You fucking hit me! I can't feel the left side of my face! You hit me! You bastard!" Dean just rolled his eyes and helped her up, standing next to him; she balled her fist and slammed it into his shoulder. "Asshole."

"Bitch."

"Can we leave, children?" Sam asked as he stood and brushed off his pants.

Dean looped an arm around Tate's waist and led her out, shaking his head every time she repeated 'you hit me.' Once outside the asylum, Dean 'gently' dropped Tate off in the back of the Impala; slamming the door behind him, said goodbye to Gavin and Kat and then got in the front seat at the same time Sam did. Tate didn't say much during the ride back to the hotel, just the occasional whimper when she touched her face and glared up into the rearview mirror, making sure Dean saw her. When they pulled into the parking space right outside their room, Tate got out first, with huff, and walked in; slamming doors and cursing as she went. She dug a change of clothes out of her duffle bag and had the bathroom door almost shut when Dean's hand flattened out on the other side of it, pushing his way in.

"What do you want?"

"We need to talk."

"About?" She asked, kicking the door shut, then reached over and turned the shower on. "Well? I'm waiting. Wanna hurry up, I want to take a shower and then go to sleep."

"Back at the asylum…"

"Where you hit me."

"Because you had a gun pressed to my chest." She bit down on her bottom lip and shifted her weight from foot to foot.

"Do we have to talk about this?"

"So you do remember everything that happened huh?"

"If I said no, would you leave?"

"No, I wouldn't, we'd still have to talk."

"Damn you."

"Tate…"

"Fine, I said those things but I didn't mean it. Hell, you should've heard what I said to Sam."

"You must've meant some of it or else you wouldn't have said it. And I doubt you meant whatever it was that you said to Sam." Tate nodded at that part.

"Maybe I meant some of it, but I know I didn't mean the almost killing you part."

"That I know, so you did mean the other stuff?" She didn't answer right away; instead she stuck her hand under the spray of water and checked the temperature. "Tate, did you mean the other stuff?"

"Yes…I dunno, maybe…kinda…I'm not sure. My head hurts."

"Because I hit you."

"Yeah and if you ever do that again, I will shoot you." Behind shut eyes, she could almost see that stupid ass grin.

"Just talk to me. That's all I'm asking and then I'll leave so you can take your shower."

"All right, fine, I'll talk to you. No, I don't like when you hit on those sleazy bleach blonde waitresses with the daisy dukes and plastic filled tits or those stupid little girls who think you're some kind of super model by day, Ghost Buster by night and have to throw themselves all over you. I want to throw them; bitches. They pisses me off; then I catch you and its like 'oh yeah, Tate, hey, sorry me and Barbie here were just talking about the scary thing in her closet. Look, I got her number, chest size and address just in case…umh…we need more information, yeah that's it. No, I wasn't staring at her boobs.' That pisses me off, but God forbid it's a guy who calls asking for help and he says hi to me the wrong way, you're punching his fucking lights out. It's okay for you but when I say something about it, I'm wrong. Whatever. Do what you want, I don't care. Flirt with them, just don't come crawling to me all 'Hey Baby' and shit. Can I take my shower now?" She snapped; rubbing away tears that threatened to fall with the heel of her hand.

"I'm not like that, am I?"

"If you don't believe me, ask your brother. You said all I had to do was talk and you'd leave me alone, so I talked. What happened to the being alone part?"

"Tate…I…I…I am an ass, aren't I?" He asked, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Not really, I have a feeling that I already know what you're going to say. So look, I'm sorry about all of that, why didn't you just tell me?"

"I have and you don't listen! Christ!" Dean clamped a hand over one ear as her voice echoed off the bathroom's tiled walls.

"Sorry about that too. I mean it, I'm sorry."

"Do you mean it? I mean, really mean it? Not that you're just saying that to shut me up."

"No, I mean it."

"Okay."

"Okay?" She nodded. "All right, I'll let you take your shower now." He was about to leave when she grabbed him by the elbow. "What?" She didn't answer him, just yanked his white t-shirt up far enough to see where the rock salt had hit. The skin there was an angry looking red and some places were already turning a purplish green. Gently, she pushed on it and winced when he did. She was surprised none of his ribs were broken.

"This is a stupid question, but does that hurt?"

"Like hell." Rolling her eyes, she pulled the shower curtain open further and nodded toward it.

"Get in, might as well save water." Smirking at her, Dean tugged his shirt the rest of the way off as she locked the door. "He's not asleep yet; I don't trust him and his crappy timing." A few minutes later, as Dean slipped into the shower, Tate reached out quick and punched him right between the shoulders.

"Tate! What the hell?!"

"You hit me, you bastard."

"Jesus, when are you going to let that go? Besides, you tried to kill me!"

"You hit me! Have you seen my face?" She asked, showing off her left cheek and temple. "Its fucking purple."

"Matches your eyes."

"Yeah, it'll match your eyes if you don't shut up."

"Fine, how can I make it up to you?"

"We'll talk about that later. Are you getting the shower or what? Pain in the ass, I still can't believe you hit me."

"You shot me!"

"Yeah well, it was a long time coming. Jackass." She said, finally pulling the thin curtain closed around them.


	12. Scarecrow

**Hey guys! Long time no update, well that's over seeing as Final's week is almost here. Anyways, this chapter is like "Take 59", I swear that's how many I wrote and rewrote to get this right. Really, what you see here was my original idea with a few little add-ins, but I had to second guess myself and tried 58 other tries and got so frustrated to the point where I went "can I post a note saying I'm skipping this episode?" But I finally sat down and BOOM! Lookie! I got it! So this is my Scarecrow, I like the way this turned out and no, I don't have a 60th try written...thank god. I hope you guys like this. And before I forget, the episode for next week, the "What-If" episode, I already have a few ideas from the preview. Haha, without giving too much away the words "Tate", "Chet" and "Yacht" will be strung together in a couple sentences. And, if anyone has anything for either Faith or Route 666, feel free to drop it off. ****--B.E**

* * *

**Scarecrow  
Playing the Middlewoman**

Tate's eyes opened sluggishly as she felt both car doors slam and shook the backseat, jarring her head off of where it rested against the window. Looking outside, she realized it was too dark and pushed her sunglasses up into her hair; she had them on earlier when she fell asleep, she had a migraine and the sun had been way too much for her. Opening her door, she stepped out onto the asphalt and found both Sam and Dean back by the trunk. As she rounded around the back bumper, Tate stopped and watched Sam shoving things into a duffle bag.

"You're a selfish bastard, you know that? You just do whatever you want. Don't care what anybody thinks." Dean snapped at him as he pulled out the laptop bag. Rubbing her temples with her fingers, she watched this fight and sighed; but neither of them heard it.

"That's what you really think?" Sam snapped back.

"Yes, it is."

"Well, then this selfish bastard is going to California."

"Wait! California, what the hell is going on? I was asleep for how long? What the fuck did I miss?" Tate shouted, grabbing Sam by the elbow.

"I'm going to California to find Dad, you're more than welcome to come and look for your dad too."

"This is about John? Why? What happened now?"

"We have to go to Indiana, he wants us to check out these disappearances." Dean told her, watching as she rolled her eyes.

"You got to go do what daddy said and you want to find daddy and mine? Am I right?" Both nodded. "Well here this assholes, I'm not going anywhere till we straighten this out."

"Tate…"

"No, explain to me what's going on." She asked, sitting on the hood of the trunk, ignoring the look Dean gave her.

"He wants to go do this because he has to prove to dad that he's the good lil solider and still takes orders from him like he's ten again." Sam snapped, poking Dean in the chest.

"At least he knows he can ask me to do a hunt for him, he knows I'll stay and not ditch him when he needs me most."

"You got this whole whipped solider thing down pact huh? Unreal Dean, dad says jump, you ask how high."

"I'll give you how high." Dean ground out, stepping closer to Sam.

"Enough! The both of you! Jesus Christ, you're acting like your eleven and seven again! Knock it off. I didn't come back to watch you two bitch all the time. So umh…shut the fuck up for two seconds and let me talk." She said as she slid off the car and stood between them. "If either of you hit me, you're going to California with your ass in a sling and you…" She threatened, her eyes narrowing at Dean, "…I'll deal with back at the hotel with or without Sam present."

"Tate…"

"Shut up Dean. Now, you both make good points, good points that I agree with."

"You can't be serious."

"Yeah really Tate…"

"Didn't I tell you to shut up? And because of that, I'm gonna sail into you first. You do play the good lil boy shit to a hilt Dean, you don't need daddy to give you a sticker every time to kill the bad guy. I'm gonna make it short and simple; grow up. You have this fucking complex, you think because you stayed you are the good kid, well you're not. You're a fuck up just as much as Sam, as me and the next guy. You're not a perfect hunter, I've seen you make mistakes and guess what, you'll never be like you dad because—newsflash—your name isn't John Winchester, it's Dean Winchester. So you can go pout all you want. And you…" Tate ground out as she spun around to look at Sam.

"…are no better than he is. Fighting because of John. Look, you left, I get it, hell I did it first and if anyone wants to blame someone for making you leave, blame me. You followed my lead to get out and believe me, it was a good thing. But ya know what, its all in the past now, so move on. You're just as pigheaded and stubborn as he is, so is your father, apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. But if you think walking away right now is going to make things any better between you and John, your wrong. All its going to do is cause another fight and we won't be there to defend you, whether you like it or not. And if my dad's with him, you're doubly screwed because he'll back him up. And they'll both be pissed because you left Dean alone, they don't know I'm here. So make your choice. I'm done with the both of you." She said, throwing her hands up in the air and stepped away from them.

"I'm still going." Sam said, looking over to Tate who just shook her head and sighed.

"Come on, you're not serious."

"I am serious."

"Sam!"

"No Tate, you said choose and I did."

"It's the middle of the night! Hey, I'm taking off, I will leave your ass, you hear me?"

"That's what I want you to do." Tate stood there for a second, watching and waiting, she knew Sam would come back or Dean would go get him, but neither of them moved.

"Goodbye, Sam." Dean said shortly as he pounded his fist into the trunk's hood before walking back to the driver's side.

"No! No! Dean! Sam! Sam, get back here!" But Sam's disappearing figure didn't turn back around, it was as if he didn't even hear her. "Sam! Sam! Samuel, get back here! Sam! Dean, do something!" She cried as she heard his footfalls behind her. But he didn't do what she had wanted him to; he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her over to the passenger's side. "Dean! Let me go! Dean! You bastard! Let me go! You're hurting me!"

"Stop screaming and get in the car."

"What about Sam?" She shrieked and he only shrugged.

"It was his choice."

"You're an asshole! He's your brother, you're supposed to go back for him! You're supposed to keep him with you! You're supposed to do what I didn't!"

"Tate, he's going to California, not drowning." Without thinking about it, just acting on pure instinct, Tate's right hand came flying across Dean's cheek.

"Go to hell Winchester." She rasped, tears threatening to fall as she shoved past him and opened the back door, sliding into the backseat. Letting her head fall back against the window, she felt her migraine come back and swiped away the tears that fell down her cheeks.

Dean, still rubbing his cheek, slipped into the driver's seat and sighed. Adjusting the mirror, he looked back at Tate and shook his head. She was already curled up on the seat and had her eyes closed with mascara hued tears running down her cheeks. He knew what he did was wrong, talking about Garrett was the biggest no-no in the book and he went and opened his mouth; it was like Tate talking about his mother, it didn't win a fight, it just poured salt into that wound that would never heal.

"_You're a fuck up just as much as Sam, as me and the next guy." _He knew she was right. Again, he adjusted the mirror and watched what was left of Sam's shadow disappear in the moon light.

"Shit…I screwed up big time." He mumbled as he turned the keys.


	13. Between Scarecrow and Faith

**Twice in one night, my god, I'm on a roll. But anyways, don't ask me where this came from, but I felt like it could be fun to post. Its just one of those things that popped into my head and refused to leave me alone until I wrote it down. So the Word file I saved this in is called **_**Observation #1**_** and I like it, don't know why…huh. Anyways, I think I might put a couple more 'Observations' in here and there; this takes place between Scarecrow and Faith and the first one is about Tate. Oh! And something else that's new, besides this new lil' addition, this is told from First Person Point of View and I decided if it's about Tate, it should be from Dean's POV. One last thing, if you have the song "Homecoming Queen" by Hinder, I'd suggest listening to that while reading; well that's how I did it. Some parts of the song seem to fit Tate or at least I think they do. I think that's a long enough Author's Note, so I'm done. Have fun. –B.E

* * *

**

_**Scarecrow/Faith**_

_**Observation #1—Tate**_

_**Dean's POV**_

Its funny how at night, when the hunting and ghost busting is done for the day, that the three of us go to different parts of the hotel room; well I think its funny. Sammy's usually sitting with his laptop at that shitty stock hotel table that wobbles and needs a piece of cardboard jammed under a leg to keep it from tipping to one side and I usually grab the bed further away from the door and sit there, going through the duffle bag filled with the guns and knives, carefully checking each chamber to make sure the magazine is good enough for the next day and if they need it, polish the blades and Tate…well…she never has one spot, she's always all over the place. Either sitting on the other bed doing something she thinks is important, like painting her finger nails only to fleck the polish off in the morning when she needs something to entertain herself or toying with her camera, adjusting the lens and bringing it to her eye to make sure its in the right spot or loading new film into the damn thing. And if she's not doing that, she's helping Sam out by doing research by hand; pouring over newspapers, Ben's and Dad's journals and her own which she denies having and says it's Ben's second one; yeah right, liar. If she's not doing that, she's in the bathroom using up all the hot water or preening in front of the mirror; plucking her eyebrows, looking for new bruises on her face, shaving her legs or doing other 'girly things.' Yeah, we don't talk about 'girly things,' me and Tate do some have limits. I use "some" loosely 'cause there was this one time when we were in this bar in Memphis…yeah, never mind.

But tonight she's doing something I haven't seen her do since we were kids; she's sitting on Sam's bed with her long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles; her feet are bopping to the beat that's coming through her iPod's headphones, and her arms are crossed over her chest, in one hand is her iPod and in the other, held up a few inches away from her face is a beat-up paper back. I think I've seen this one before, it looks familiar; the front cover is orange and fades to purple toward the bottom. In the middle is a woman riding a dragon; yeah Tate reads fantasy and sci-fi books. So if we stop in a big enough town with a bookstore, I loose both her and Sam in there. He's in there searching through shelves filled with history books and crap like that, while she's over in the 'Fantasy/Sci-Fi' section going through books about dragons, elves and vampires and werewolves; don't we deal with enough of that crap on a daily basis? But she buys it and reads it, whatever makes you happy. I prefer cards and pool to books. But anyway, the book is broken-in with a creased spine and the cover is torn in some spots, she's had this one for a while. Ben probably bought it for her way back when. I think it's by some chick named something McCaffrey...I dunno, she tried to get me to read it once. Yeah, that went over big, like a lead balloon. I only remember the last name since that's what I've been starring at; the book cover, not Tate. If she catches me starring, she'll start screaming; just what The Black Bear Inn needs, a shrieking violet with a bad red dye job shouting all kinds of "colorful" threats at midnight. Thing with Tate is, she only reads in the hotel rooms at night if she's mad or trying to avoid something, which is either her father or me and right now, it's me. Whether she says it out loud or not, she's still a little mad at me for letting Sam go to that bus station and she's still really mad about the Garrett thing. He chose to leave, not me, I just let him go and I know I shouldn't have said what I did about Rett; it slipped. And like she threatened, she dealt with me back at the hotel; I have the bruises to prove it. If you've ever seen her punch some jack-off in the face for looking at her the wrong way or someone not telling her whatever she wanted to know, you know exactly how hard she can hit. She's left welts, bruises the size of her fist on my arms and almost broke my nose once; Sam likes to tell people she really did. But yeah, she let me have it about the whole Sam thing too; its not the first time and it sure as hell won't be the last time.

Another thing with Tate is she has this undying sisterly love affair with Sam. And it's not because she's older and there are times, few and far between mind you, that I do occasionally treat him like shit, but it has a lot to do with Garrett. Those two were twins right down to the damn definition in Webster's. They spent time together, they acted the same way, if her mom had been around when they were small they would've dressed the same way and in some ways, they even looked the same; the purple-eyed thing skipped Rett thought. I knew from the second Dad and Ben introduced them to me and Sam when we were kids that those two were closer than me, Sam or any other regular siblings out there. It took awhile to get them to actually separate from each other, but Garrett wasn't too hard to convince once he saw my little green army men and G.I Joes. I think that was when he first realized Tate was okay by herself. And she was; she would read the books Ben had about mythology and astrology; I don't think leaping over to stories about dragons and magic was all too hard for her after reading all of that. But when she wasn't reading or wasn't with Garrett, she drifted toward Sam. And that was cool too, Sam needed someone to play with since Garrett and I didn't like him tagging along back then; he had a bad habit of stepping on the army men, and I really don't think Sam picked up acting like a girl from Tate, seeing as she's not that girly herself, she was a tomboy and playing with his stupid race cars was something she was okay with. Really, I think Tate had always wanted a younger sibling and when she found Sam, she "adopted" a baby brother. But no matter what, her and Garrett were always together. Even up until he died, she wanted to go back and find him, even though me and Sam stopped her. And when she finally did accept that he twin was gone, she went right to Sam. Now believe me, I'm not jealous or anything, she talks to him all the time and that's cool--even though I don't know why, I listen and just because he went away to Stanford doesn't make him any better at it-- but whatever. And I swear, her and Sam have their own secret language and shit, hey that's cool, do what you want...like I said, I'm not jealous; she can be friends with him. But man, when I let him walk down that road the other night, I swore she saw red and was ready to nail my ass to a tree; which if I hadn't dragged her back into the car she probably would've done with her bare hands. Like I said, she's not a girl at all but she's my girl, if you know what I mean.

Shit, I think she caught me starring, she cocked an eye brow. That's never a good sign, especially when she's not talking to you or giving you the patented "Tate King Cold Shoulder and Glare from Hell" combo, like I get all the time. She's gotta really hate you or really know you inside and out to give you that and you have to piss her off something fierce to push her that far. But that's just another thing to chalk up to her being Tate. Along with her sarcasm, sarcasm and did I mention, sarcasm? It never ends. So what else? She punches like a guy, talks like one too, she can shoot a gun better than I can, but I'll never admit to that, and despite being a hunter and raised the way we were, she's a really great photographer, why she started off in journalism I still don't understand. But I've seen pictures she's taken, most of them were from the paper and were saved from the paper's website to the laptop in a file that I labeled _"Weird Gay Porn and Trashy Rag-Mag Pics," _she won't open it; I asked her to once and she gave me the Look. So most of the pictures I have are of art gallery openings, the artists themselves, some things around Boston; old buildings, 'grand openings' of new buildings, political stuff and all that. But the ones she has at her place in Boston are the better ones; there are old ones she has from when she was a kid of her dad and some of me and Sam; there aren't any of Garrett around her house though, and new ones of her friend Fancy and her bar, some of her friends from work and she took a few of this cop she dated and won't let me see. I don't know why, I know she dated other people when she was away and she knows I did too. But none of those girls were like her and believe me when I say that there is only one Tatum Elizabeth King. Cassie was sweet and the only one I told about all of this, I even told her a little about Tate, and I think I loved her because I told her; I never had to tell Tate. And then there was that girl in Phoenix, I can't remember her name, but she was a complete 360 of Tate, she was a wanna-be model for some make-up company and kept touching up her lip gloss every five seconds. Tate and lip gloss?! Are you high? She wears black eye liner, black mascara and this "pixie dust" crap called _Champagne_...I dunno and that's as girly as it gets. I don't think it can get much more girly-er when the girl knows how to make silver bullets, speaks Latin better than she speaks English and knows all kinds of Latin spiritual ceremonies to go along with it, has about thirty fake IDs and names and really isn't afraid to break a bone if she hits you; in fact she likes when she breaks a bone...freak. But if she didn't do that, she wouldn't be Tate, she'd be some pink Barbie thing named Lizzie, like Ben likes to call her sometimes.

I don't think she even knows what the color pink looks like. She tells me, when she's in a girly mood, that I smell like leather, the Impala, gun powder and something else that she either can't figure out or knows and refuses to tell me; she does that kinda shit. But she smells like leather too, photo chemicals; its an acquired smell believe me, cigarette smoke, that jasmine perfume she wears and mint from all the gum she chews when she doesn't have a cigarette. The Mustang reeks of it, so does her clothes and some of my old clothes that now get sorted into the 'Tate-pile' whenever we unpack. But her hair smells completely different, it smells like that coconut shampoo she uses and I should know, she sleeps with her head under my chin every night. No matter what, she always lies on half of my chest; when I wake up my left arm is all pins and needles and there she is, with her head under my chin. But I've gotten used to it. And then there's my favorite thing, Tate's a collector of tattoos. She has a lightning bolt on each hip, a crown on the back of her neck with 'Rett' in the center of it, a blue bird on her calf, a dragon crawling across her lower back and a protection hymn in Latin wrapped around her right wrist. But my favorite one out of all of them is this little one she denies having, its on her left wrist, right above on top of her pulse point. In old English script is really detailed bold, black letter, complete with ivy twined around it in green and was outlined in purple; how can I not see that? And guess what the letter is? Guess. C'mon, just guess. All right, it's a 'D.' She tells me its not for me, but I know her better than she thinks I do. It wasn't there when she left and when she came back, boom there it was in plain site.

"Hey Asshole, stop starring." Okay, so I was caught, but she knew what I was up to anyways.


	14. Faith

**Hey guys, if you're re-reading this, I finally switched the documents around like I said I would about a month ago. And if you're reading this for the first time, no worries, everything is finally in the right order. So, keep reading, reviewing and bearing with me.--B.E**

----

**Faith  
Part One  
Just Gotta Have a Little**

Tate's eyes snapped open and when she blinked, sending her dried out contacts back into their rightful places, she found herself starring up at the water spot riddled hotel ceiling. Slowly, ever so slowly, she rolled her neck and bit back a gasp when the sore muscles finally gave way; she had dozed off with her head thrown over the back of the chair. Groaning, she sat up straight and felt something warm resting on her lap. Looking down at her thighs, she found her laptop sitting there, her screen saver trailing across the screen. She had been sending as many emails out as she could, trying to track down her father and John's friend Joshua. Moving the laptop from her lap to the stock, crappy hotel table, Tate stretched and began regretting falling asleep in the chair with her legs propped up on the other one. Next to where she put the computer, she found her cell phone blinking up at her; someone had called and left a message. After quickly listening to it, she wrote down Joshua's number. Padding across the room, she left the slip of paper with his number on it near Sam, who was sprawled out on one of the beds sound asleep. Tapping soon broke down into all out shoving, trying to wake the younger Winchester up and when she finally got him to open his eyes, she got growled at.

"And you say you and Dean have nothing in common, you're both bitches when you wake up."

"What do you want Tate?" Sam asked, reaching out and grabbing one of the pillows so he could bury his face in it.

"Joshua called me back, left a message saying he wanted to talk to you but you never left him your number. Here, call him back." She said as she jammed the piece of paper into his out stretched hand. "Either go back to sleep or take a shower, you look like hell."

"Thanks Tate. What are you doing?" He asked, shoving all of the medical papers away from him.

"I need to get out of here for a little while. I'm taking the Impala out for a spin."

"Just don't dent it, Dean'll..."

"...Have a shit fit. I know. I've got my phone if anything happens. Go back to bed, kid." She muttered as she shrugged her jacket on and slid back into her boots. Grabbing the keys off the dresser, Tate walked out of the room and squinted at the golden rays coming off the setting sun; she only hoped she could find a pair of sunglasses amongst Dean's tape collection. Behind the wheel, Tate put the Impala in reverse and made her way out of the parking lot, leaving the crappy hotel behind. As she turned off onto the main road, she flicked the radio on and jumped when AC/DC blasted out at her.

"One day, he'll go deaf and I'll just stand there and laughing, saying 'I told ya so.' What an ass." She muttered, turning it down to a volume suited for people who valued their hearing; of course it was still way too loud, but it wasn't loud enough to make her ears bleed anymore. She didn't know where she was going, she was just driving; the more she drove, the better she hoped she'd feel. Coming to a turn off that lead out of town, Tate stopped at the light and watched it, waiting for it to turn green again. It was still red when her phone began to ring in the other seat. Snatching it up, Tate flipped it open and brought it to her ear.

"Hello?" It was her default ringer, not the one of the ones she had set for Sam and Dean.

"Tate?"

"Dean? Where are you calling me from?"

"A pay phone."

"What?!"

"I said..."

"No, I know what you said. Why are you calling from a payphone?"

"Don't have my cell phone."

"Dean, where are you?" She asked, flipping on the directional.

"Standing outside the hospital."

"Why are you outside? Christ Dean, you can't just stay there until Sam and I figure everything out?"

"I'm not staying here. I need you to come pick me up."

"To hell with that, you can stay there."

"I checked myself out."

"You did what?! Oh my God Dean, I'm going to kill you myself."

"Tate, just come get me."

"No."

"Please."

"No! You're there for a reason."

"I'm not going to die here."

"Don't say that! You're not going to die, you dumb-ass."

"Just come get me." Even though she was telling him no, she was already half way to the hospital. Part of her wanted him there with her instead of laid up in some room watching crappy TV, even though TV back at the hotel wasn't much better. Rolling her eyes, she made yet another turn and found herself only five minutes away from where Dean was standing. "Tate?"

"If Sam yells at me for this, you're dead. I mean it Winchester, dead. Six feet under, pushing up daisies dead. I'm not kidding."

"Of course you're not. I see you pulling in." The line went dead before she could say anymore. Growling, she slapped her phone shut and threw it back onto the seat. She was going to kill him, wring his neck, gouge out his eyes, and kick the crap out of him and all that other stuff she normally threatened him with. Pulling the Impala up near the curb, Tate spun the keys in the ignition and turned the car off, only to kick her door open afterwards. Walking over to Dean, she put on her best angry face and glared at him.

"You're so dead."

"Nice to see you too."

"I mean it Dean; you should've stayed in there until we can fix this."

"Don't you realize, you can't fix everything."

"You can tell that to your hard headed brother. I'm not."

"What does that mean?" Tate couldn't handle it, he had just gotten on her last nerve.

"What does that mean? I'll tell you what that means, for three days Sam and I have been searching high, low and in between for a way to help you and you're standing out here because you checked yourself out! You are the biggest asshole I have ever met! We're trying to help and you want to play in fucking traffic! I should drag you back in there and tell them to strap you to a bed! But you know what? I'm not going to. You're going to get in that car and explain everything to Sam, because I sure as hell ain't doing it." She finished, dropping a hand onto her hip.

"So we're leaving?" Dean asked a beat later, a grin on his overly pale face.

"Get in the car." Tate ground out.

"Gimmie the keys."

"You're not driving Hot Shot, I am. You're riding shot gun and you'll like it." She snapped before getting in the car. The ride back was in silence, except the music, and it took all Tate had not to pull the car to a stop and hit Dean. How stupid could one person be? A heart attack and check themselves out? What was wrong with him? She didn't have time to answer that question. Rolling her eyes, she easily slid the Impala into a parking space outside the hotel and watched Dean's eyes dart over to her.

"What? I'm not getting out first, you can. He'll be so surprised to see you." Tate drawled out as Dean rolled his eyes and then opened the door. Together, with Tate lagging behind a few steps, the two made their way toward the hotel room door.

"Do you have your room key?"

"Of course I do, but you're going to knock." She told him, stuffing her hands into her pockets.

"I hate you."

"I know. Knock or we'll be out here all night." For the next few seconds they stood out there, Dean's knock echoing down the hall and waited. When the door finally did open, the look on Sam's face said it all; what was Dean doing?

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked, his eyes moving back and forth from his brother and the redhead.

"I checked myself out." Dean said, pushing his way past Sam. Smiling brightly at him, Tate followed the older Winchester inside

"What, are you crazy?" Sam asked and Tate wasn't sure if his question was directed at her or at Dean. Either way, he was going to get answer; Dean just happened to speak up first.

"Well, I'm not gonna die in a hospital where the nurses aren't even hot."

"That's why you checked out? I should've left your ass outside that phone booth." Tate nearly growled as she shut the door behind her and dropped down on Sam's bed.

"You know, this whole I-laugh-in-the-face-of-death thing? It's crap. I can see right through it." Sam said, watching his brother carefully.

"Yeah, whatever, dude. Have you even slept? You look worse than me." He told Sam as the younger Winchester sat down in front of Tate.

"I've been scouring the Internet for the last three days. Calling every contact in Dad's journal."

"For what?"

"For a way to help you, numb nuts." Tate said, looking at him as if she was explaining it to small child. Sam bit back a laugh.

"One of Dad's friends, Joshua, he called me back. Told me about a guy in Nebraska. A specialist."

"You're not gonna let me die in peace, are you?"

"I'm not gonna let you die, period. We're going."

"But me, I'm still gonna kill ya for that stunt you pulled; checking out of the hospital." Tate said as she stood up and made her way to the bathroom to take her contacts out.

Later on, with her glasses perched on her nose and wearing a pair of shorts and one of Dean's old shirts, Tate laid on her side, resting on her elbow, and looked down at Dean in the darkness that surrounded them. After everything had settled down, the three of them slowly slid back into their nightly routine and at the moment, Tate was wrapping hers up. Sam was already asleep and Dean had fallen back to sleep the minute his head hit the pillow. Sliding her glasses back up to where they belonged, she watched her world come back into focus and sighed down at Dean. His head was tilted away from her and as always, the creep had most of the blankets; God she hated that. Running a finger down his arm, she sighed and dropped her head into the crook of his shoulder.

"You know, I didn't mean any of that pushing up daisies shit, right? I was just frustrated and then you go and check yourself out. God, sometimes I wonder what goes on in your head and other times, I think it's safer if I don't know. But this, this was stupid. Sam and I were going to come get you and then go to wherever Joshua's sending us, but no. You have to go and bitch about us not letting you die. One day, you'll eat those words. But for right now, Sam and I are going to do everything in our power to fix this…to fix you. You got it, jackass?" She muttered, pressing a kiss to his throat. "Just have some faith in us."

"Tate?" Picking her head up, she looked over her shoulder and cocked an eye at Sam.

"What?"

"Stop talking to him and go to sleep. Christ."

"You go to sleep."

"You go to sleep."

"Tate!"

"Sam!"

"Shut up." They both yelled at the same time.

"Both of you shut the hell up." Tate jumped at the sound of Dean's voice and found her giggles smothered when Dean's arm snaked around her waist and pulled her into his side. "If we're going to see this _specialist _of Sam's, you need to get some sleep. I'm not dealing with a bitch in the morning."

"I'm always a bitch."

"A bigger bitch."

"Shut up!"


	15. Faith: Two

**Okay! Finally, I got everything in the right order and I'm happy. Its not my fault that my mind works too qucik sometimes and I get an idea for an already finished project. Anyways, I'm happy with both Faiths now so no more switching around. Keep reading and reviewing.--B.E**

**----**

**Faith  
Confessions**

"Do you need me here?" Tate's voice broke the silence that filled the large waiting area in the medical pavilion. The waiting area was smack in the middle of about five different offices each with different specialities; Sam, Tate and Dean were waiting for Dean's name to be called by one of the nurses that would take him into the cardiologist's office.

"Why are you asking? Do you need to leave?" Sam asked, looking at the redhead who was sitting across from him. He knew, even thought Dean refused to admit it, that his brother wanted Tate with him; he probably wanted her more than he wanted Sam there.

"I have something to do."

"Let her go Sam, she doesn't need to be here." Dean growled from behind one of the magazines he had yanked up off the small table on his left. He wasn't interested in the fact that it was an old issue of some gardening magazine, it was keeping his mind off of being in the doctor's office. Clenching her fists, Tate pushed herself out of her chair and walked over to Dean, pulling the magazine out of his hands. Smiling at him, she reached out and ran her thumb down his cheek; she hated being here, she hated the whole damn heart attack, blind reverend with the magic touch, doctor's office deal that she found herself in the middle of.

"I want to be here, but I have something that needs to get done. I'll be gone twenty minutes...a half hour at most. I should be back by the time you get done in there." She said softly as she nodded toward one of the doors that branched off from the waiting room. "Okay?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"Stop pouting."

"I'm not pouting."

"Whatever. Just don't act like that with the doctor. And no bitching, behave and listen to Sam."

"I'm not a child, Tatum."

"You act like one, Dean. Just behave and come out of there telling me you're fine, okay?" She asked, running her hand through his hair.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Ass." Tate muttered before kissing him hard on the lips. "Just be nice, that's all I'm asking." She told him as she pulled her coat back on and walked out, leaving behind a blur of red hair and jasmine perfume in her wake. Jogging out to her car, she slid into the Mustang and started it up with roar. Flying out of the parking lot, she remembered the directions Sam had given her the day before and ten minutes later found herself pulling into a make shift parking space in the muddy lot outside of Reverend LeGrange's outdoor church. Slamming her door behind her, Tate trudged through the mud and made her way toward the house that sat in front of her. Making her way up the porch steps, the mud coming off her boots each time her foot hit one of the wooden boards below, she made her way across the porch and knocked on the front door. Two knocks later, SueAnn LeGrange opened the door and smiled warmly at her.

"Miss King, what are you doing here?"

"Is your husband free for just a few minutes? I'd really like to talk to him."

"Yes he is. Would you like me to tell him you're here? I could take you back to his office."

"That would be great." Tate said in her best happy employee voice, as she followed the older woman through her house. As they walked, Tate couldn't help but feel the cold prickle that usually came before something set the EMF off and out of habit rubbed her arms, trying to get rid of the feeling. It bothered her, plus she left her gun in the glove compartment. Walking into Roy's office, Tate spied the blind reverend sitting at his desk, with the radio on low and sipping at a cup of coffee.

"SueAnn?"

"Roy, you have a visitor. You remember Miss King from the other day? She came in with those two young men, you healed the one, Dean."

"Oh yes, you told me about her. The redhead."

"That would be me." Tate piped up as Roy told her to have a seat and SueAnn left the room, to give them privacy, she said. Looking at the man in front of her, Tate idly twisted the ring she wore on her index finger around a few times before he started speaking.

"So, what brings you here Miss King?"

"Yesterday, about yesterday and Dean."

"I was only doing what the Lord directed me to do." She was tempted to roll her eyes, but fought it.

"I know you were, but you didn't have to do it. Dean didn't want you to waste your time on him."

"Miss King, it wasn't a waste. The Lord put it on my heart that it wasn't Dean's time and I had to change that. So I did. Nothing I do is a waste of time. Dean is a good person with a job to do, he needs to see this job--whatever it is--to the end." He told her, looking at her with his glassy eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. Squirming under his blank gaze, she twisted in the seat and then jumped to her feet. "Miss King?"

"Look, I just wanted to come and say thank you, it meant a lot to me. I'm sorry, I have to go." She said quickly, raking a hand through her hair.

"Miss King, stay. For just another moment." Tate stopped in the doorway and turned back around. "You came to thank me? Why? I didn't do anything for you. I healed Dean for Dean, but why are you thanking me? How much does Dean actually mean to you?"

"I known him since I was ten, he means a lot to me."

"That's not just it, is it?" For a moment, she shifts her weight from foot to foot before looking down at her watch, she promised to be back soon. "Miss King? Am I right?"

"Guess so. I love him, you know? I mean not in that stupid little high school crush or movie star way, but in that way that I could stay with him forever and not care if I don't have some stupid ring around my finger. He's my world, ya know? I moved away for almost eight years and I went nuts without him. He's everything. I don't know how to function without him there. Sure, he's annoying, flushes the toilet while I'm in the shower, so the water goes from really hot like I like it to ice cold for a minute or two, he steals the covers at night and listens to his music so loud that the bass sucks and you can barely understand what's being said, but I put up with all of that because he's Dean and I don't know how to live any other way. He's a pain, he flirts with anything that has two legs and breasts, he's sarcastic and doesn't care what he says or if he hurts anyone while saying it, but that's Dean. So yes, you did do something for me. You made him better, I know not as a person, but you fixed whatever it was that those doctors couldn't fix. Thank you." She said, stepping out of his office. "Oh! And if Dean does show up, tell him I was never here."

"Of course Miss King." Walking back out through the house, with that nagging cold still playing up her spine, she ran back to her car and threw it into reverse. Driving back into town, she took a simple short cut and shaved ten minutes off the last leg of the drive back to the medical building. Making her way into the pavilion's waiting area, she found Sam and Dean's seats empty, but found two other women--both obviously pregnant--and smiled warmly at them as she sat down.

"So, are you here to see Doctor Thomas?" The blonde asked, looking at Tate with that glowing smile she figured most pregnant women wore.

"No, I'm waiting for my boyfriend."

"Which room is he in? Probably down with Doctor Reynolds right?" The brunette sitting next to the blonde asked. On the sign out near the entrance to the parking lot, she had read that Reynolds was a physical therapist.

"No. He's in there." She answered, nodding toward the door to the cardiologist's office. She watched as both of their faces fell somewhat and then the brunette's quirked into a grin, moving her magazine over so it covered both her face and the blonde's; oh yeah, it wasn't obvious that they weren't talking about her. Rolling her eyes, Tate pulled her cell phone out and played a game of Lady Pac Man before hearing the blonde cough quietly, trying to get her attention. Cocking an eyebrow, she looked at her.

"Yes?"

"So, you're dating a umh...umh...older man?" She asked and it took all Tate had not to laugh at her. She knew exactly what the two gossip deprived mothers-to-be were implying, but decided to not string them along; after all they were only going to make fools out of themselves in the end.

"Why don't you just wait and see for yourself, he should be out any minute." Tate told her, going back to her game. Two and a half demo games later, the door opened and out walked Sam and Dean. Closing her phone with a snap, she jammed it back into her pocket and stood to meet Dean when he stopped in front of her. Kissing him on the cheek, she laced her fingers through his and with her free hand, wiggled her fingers at the two other women, who were busy trying to pick their jaws up off the floor. Hand in hand and with Sam walking a step behind them, the trio left the building and headed into the parking lot. When they got to the Impala, the Mustang was over a few spaces, Tate grabbed Dean as he went to open his door and spun him around; pushing him up against the door and standing in between his legs. Sam, who stood on the other side of the car, rolled his eyes and looked away for a second.

"What's up?" Dean asked, looking at the purple eyed redhead.

"What happened in there? You good or what?"

"I'm good. Doctor said there was nothing wrong."

"Good."

"Good. Can I get in the car now? We have things to do." She nodded before pressing a kiss to his chest, right above his heart. Looking up, she kissed him under his jaw and then pulled her keys out of her pant pocket.

"Okay, we can go now." She said, making her way over to the Mustang.


	16. Route 666

**No yelling, cursing or throwing things at me! I know! I know! I'm a bad updater. But I bring you gifts. A very funny and different gift. This would be Route 666. I've been working on this all night and I have to say, right next to Asylum, this one is my favorite. It's told from first person and at the bottom, it changes over to someone else's pov. I love it. Hope you guys'll love it. I'm keeping this short. Keep reading and reviewing. --B.E**

**Ohhh!! Just thought of it. I have nothing against Meredith from Grey's Anatomy. I love her. Just a quick heads up, you'll figure it out later. haha**

* * *

**Route 666**

**Ex and Oh…Shit!  
****Part One-The Meeting **

"You know, I wouldn't call unless I really needed your help." I say, hearing him shift around on the other end of the conversation. I can almost see him sitting on the foot of the bed, elbows on his knees, one hand in his hair while the other clutches the phone to his ear with a tired look on his handsome face. It's been almost two and a half years and I can still see him perfectly.

"I know that. We'll be there as soon as we can." He tells me softly and I can't help myself, I wonder why he's almost whispering. Is his brother sleeping in the other bed? Or is it something else? And then, I can't help myself from asking.

"Why are you whispering? I just noticed."

"She's sleeping."

"Ah…" I nod, even though he can't see me. _She _is the woman who left him a few months before we met and _she _is also the same woman he went back to after everything he told me about her. How she blamed him for her brother's death, ruining her life and then she ran away from him. She turned her back on him, her father and the life she had built with them. I always told him that I never wanted to meet her and he almost always agreed with me. But whatever.

"We'll be there in about a day or so." His voice pulls me back from my thoughts of trying to remember everything he said about her and I nod again, again he can't see me.

"Is she coming?" I ask, hoping I won't have to meet her.

"Of course she is Cassie, where else would you like her to go?"

"Dunno, anywhere but here."

"She won't mess with you. I promise."

"Yeah, I know you and your promises Dean."

"Hey, I'm a man of my word. Tate will be on her best behavior." _Tate, _that's right. I thought I had forgotten it, sadly I didn't. Somewhere in the background, I swore I heard a snort of laughter and then someone getting hit with something which was quickly followed by a _'screw you…jerk.' _That had to have been his brother.

"I'll try to believe you." I say to him, hearing him laugh a little before saying goodbye.

The day or so, as Dean promised, passes slow and each second that ticks by, I know I'm this much closer to finally seeing her. Dean did show me a battered picture of her once, it was the little wallet sized image he had jammed in between two credit cards. I remembered seeing a smiling brunette with lilac colored eyes, one arm looped limply around his brother's shoulder and the other around a young man who looked a lot like her; Dean explained after I looked at it that the other man had been her twin brother Garrett, her dead twin brother.

When Dean, his brother and _Tate _finally do show up, they come right to my office, almost right up to my desk the newspaper. Right in the middle of talking to Mayor Todd about my father's death, the three of them just slip in. Out of the corner of my eye, I spy Dean first and bat down the rush of heat to my face. _No_, I scold myself, _I'm over him and besides, _she's _here. _His not-so-little brother is standing next to him; he's not how I pictured. Whenever Dean spoke about his little brother, I always expected someone who looked the part of a little brother, not a ridiculously tall handsome young man. _She's _standing next to his brother and somewhere, I can feel my stomach flip. I've been waiting for this moment for more than two years and now I feel like I'm gonna be sick.

"Dean." I say with a slight smile, avoiding the burning purple eyes and make my way toward the trio. I stop short in front of him, stopping myself from hugging him, and instead, wring my hands together. _Smooth, Cass. Real smooth. _

"Hey, Cassie." He says as his brother smiles and _Tate _just folds her arms across her chest, as if his voice is annoying her. "This is my brother, Sam." He says, nodding toward him. Sam flashes me a smile, it's friendly and sweet and I can't help myself from smiling back. "And my…umh…Cassie, this is Tate."

And I look at her for the first time.

The long and lean figure that stands in front of me is covered in a pair of dark wash skinny jeans that had been jammed into a pair of chunky engineer boots with silver snaps up the sides. Covering her top half is a cream colored thermal long sleeve shirt with pale purple stars stamped into the material; the sleeves have been rucked up to her elbows, and layered on top of the thermal is a thin cropped leather vest, one of those things that end just below the rib cage. A thick studded belt separates denim from cotton and chains hang down from it, resting against her thighs and they probably clack as she walks. Cascading down over her shoulder is a vibrant streak of long red hair; she had it pulled up into a high fashion ponytail with the front held in place on top of her head with several bobby pins; that front chunk had been dyed a dark violet color. Around her neck are three different necklaces; a silver chain like choker that meets in middle, held together by a pair of handcuffs, under that is a thin ribbon like slip of black leather and then on a black cord is an odd purple prism that catches the light every so often. Her pouty lips, which look like they had been covered in a single coat of clear gloss, are drawn into a tight line and hovering above them is her almost completely straight nose, a ruby red star gleamed from her left nostril. The arms that rest over her chest are just as decorated as she is; her left is a little less but still. A leather biker glove, one of those fingerless ones that buckle around the wrist, cover her hand and just below its snaps is a chunky watch on a just as chunky leather band and below that is a charm bracelet with all kinds of funky symbols dangling from it. On her right, that's a whole different story; all kinds of bangles, plastic bands, stars, studs, chains and at the very top, just below her hand, is a braided leather band with bronze stars woven into it.

She flicks her hand for a second, the bracelets fall down her tan arm and she smirks, giving me a perfect glimpse of the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. In dark black ink, almost like a brand, is a simple capital letter 'D' and it says it all; she belongs to him and he to her. Her eyes narrow, sharp and purple. They are covered in a thick smear of black and purple smudge like make-up; a long line of black eye liner lies under her bottom row of eye lashes and extends out just enough to make her eye look more dramatic. Glitter is painted onto her skin under the black lines and her eye lashes are too perfectly done to be described as caked with mascara. Dark brown eye brows arch over them, giving away her natural hair color, and she glares at me, as if I'm the worst thing she's ever seen.

All and all, she looks like a walking, not yet talking and breathing add for a rock music influenced clothing line.

If she didn't have this look on her face like she smelt something decaying at her feet, she would've been ten time more beautiful. No wonder why he went back to her, she's drop dead gorgeous.

Working up the nerve, I take a deep breath, smooth out my shirt and step towards her. The chunky boots of hers make a loud stomp like sound and her chains jingle as she takes a step back from me, putting two steps between us. I just smile wider, I'll be damned if I let her get to me. Sam and Dean watch on, fascinated by the sight…I guess. My hand stretches out to fill the gap between us.

"Hi, I'm Cassie. Dean's told me a lot about you."

----

"_Hi, I'm Cassie. Dean's told me a lot about you."_

Bleh!!

God, she makes me want to puke_. I'm sure Dean's told you a whole hell of a lot about me_. Doubt it! If he did, you wouldn't be standing in front of me, all brave and ex-girlfriendy. Stupid. Numb nut. Jackass. I'm _soooooo_ rolling my eyes right now.

_Cassie. _

Couldn't get further from Tate if he tried. Moron. I don't know her—frankly, I don't want to—and I already can't stand her. Dean says I have a great way with people. Yeah, that's sarcasm. And the only people I like are the ones who don't look at my…my…boy…no! No! NO! Whatever the hell he's called like they want to jump his bones right then and there in front of me. Umh…no! Only I get to do that! Dumb little girl.

She even looks the part of a rebound girl. With her pretty curly hair, cute little smile and bright shinny, warm eyes. Again…bleh!! All wide eyed, love me and giggly. Ya know the kind you screw quick, leave half of a note on the pillow the next morning and steal her favorite coffee cup on the way out. You don't bring that back, by the way. Just a quick side note. Remember that. Write it down, underline three times.

She's all 'pick me, choose me, love me.' Gag me! I should start calling her Meredith.

I look at her hand. Like I'm touching that. Ha! In the past, I've shoveled dirt, hauled rotting dead bodies, a werewolf or two, been covered in bucket-O'-ghost guts and even dealt with the occasional distraught damsel in distress who came **this** close to getting slapped for looking at Dean all gooey eyed, but I will not touch her! No! Nope! Can't be done!

I back up another step. Bad enough I had to be dragged here, there's no way in hell I'm getting any closer than I have to. And since when is 'Meeting the Ex' in my job description? No. I was trained to shoot, hunt, kill and do the occasional touch down dance after a good hunt. But no where in that word of mouth rule book my father drilled into my head does it say anywhere that I, Tatum Elizabeth King, have to touch, deal with, be remotely civil to or even acknowledge that we're sharing the same air with one of Dean's cheap throw offs. Believe me, its not written there, I've checked the fine print many a time.

She's trying again and moving closer still. Guess what honey, you keep moving closer, I'll keep moving back. I'll move back so far I'll be sitting in the Impala's front seat before you even touch me. And that's a promise. I have to stop her. She's too close as it is. She probably slept with Dean enough times to write her own trashy romance novel; there's no way she's going to be any closer to me.

Ya know that game where you connect who you and your friends have slept with…ew! EW!! EW!! Bad thought! Bad thought! She must be stopped!

"Tate! I'm Tate!" I all but shout and bite my tongue before I can scream _"Keep back foul beast!" _She looks at me like I'm crazy. Eh…people have said worse. And then her face crumples, oh no, she looks like she's going to start channeling Meredith. I am not Addison! And besides, you were the other woman. And Dean? McDreamy? How about McNo! Please, I'm a McSteamy fan.

I want to strangle her.

Scratch that, she's not Meredith. Meredith is soooo better. If Meredith slept with Dean, I wouldn't mind. Ya know, we could play the connect-the-sex game. I'd be happy. Meredith would've slept with Dean before McDreamy and then I would've slept with Dean and then Meredith would've slept with McDreamy and then, in some screwed up way, I would've slept with McDreamy. Oh! Oh! McDreamy slept with Addison and Addison slept with McSteamy and back in Seattle, she slept with McDreamy again in between Meredith, so somehow, again in another screwed up way, I would've slept with McSteamy. How cool is that?

Stop.

I'm rambling. And Cassie is still here.

Okay, time to bring out the big guns and get rid of her. Time for The Look. All it takes is one glare, one patented Tate King look and she's standing back by Dean, straight backed and Sam casts me a look, the one that usually follows The Look.

"Umh…yeah. Tate, Cassie. So, yeah." Dean says, stumbling over himself and then snaps his fingers. "I'm sorry about your dad." He says and means it.

"Yeah, me too." Cassie says back as she looks at the floor.

Part of me wants to feel sorry, losing a parent is rough. But the other part, ya know the jealous 'he was mine first' part doesn't give a damn. And if it is some spooky who killed her father, she's in for one hell of a trip.


	17. Route 666: Two

**Hey Guys! I decided to go back and add something for Route 666. Nelle07 asked if Dean was still going to sleep with Cassie, so here's my response for that. If you guys noticed, I added something to the title of the first one, I changed it to **_**Exs and Oh...part one: The Meeting.**_** This is part two, the Confrontation. Just clearing that up seeing as I just changed it. Hope you guys like this. Keep reading and reviewing―B.E **

**Quick side note; I'm taking requests for one-shots, so if you have anything, just leave it in a review or pop it over to me in a PM. And if you guys want, I finally got it done, I asked a friend of mine on DeviantArt to draw Tate for me. Just go to my profile and scroll down, there's a link with her name next to it and the link to the person who drew it for me. Check it out. She looks awesome!!**

* * *

**Route 666  
****Exs and Oh...Shit  
****Part Two-The Confrontation**

Tate woke to the sound of Sam bustling around their hotel room, picking up things, muttering to himself and trying to find a strong enough signal on his cell phone. Pulling her pillow over her head, she buried her nose into the mattress and tried to go back to sleep. She was just about half asleep when she realized something was wrong with her current sleeping arrangement. Sitting upright, the pillow went flying onto the other side of the bed, she slid her glasses on over her eyes and looked over to Sam.

"Where's Dean?" She asked, raking a hand through her hair; several tangles got caught in between her fingers as she went. Sam paused, a look of shock on his face and gently placed John's notebook back down at the foot of his bed; he didn't need it to go flying if Tate decided to start throwing things.

"He umh...well..." Sam muttered, looking away from her.

"Sam, where is Dean?" She asked, this time demanding an answer, as she swung her feet to the floor and got out of bed.

"He went to Cassie's last night, when you went to get more stuff for your contacts, and he didn't come back." Shaking her head, Tate padded over to the chair where she had left her jeans from the day before and tugged them on, tossing the shorts she slept in onto the bed. "Tate, Tate, Tate...what are you doing?"

"Getting dressed. What are you doing?" She asked as she pulled on a tank top on over her head.

"Mayor Todd was killed last night. It looks like the same thing that killed Cassie's dad." Sam told her and winched when he saw her bristle at the other young woman's name. It was only a little before nine and he had already set her off; what a good day this was shaping up to be. She was tugging on a pair of jeans as Sam shook his head at her; she ignored that look. It was too early to deal with that one.

"And the damn thing didn't take Cassie out yet because...?" Tate asked, flicking her wrist impatiently as she walked into the bathroom, turning the water on as she stood in front of mirror. After brushing her teeth, putting her contacts in and making her hair look presentable, she came back out, grabbed her jacket, boots and car keys.

"Tate..."

"Sam, shut it." She mumbled, hopping around for a second as she pulled on one of her boots and then the other. "I'm just going to go find him. And if you find him first, then I'll just stick around to have a nice little chat with Cassie."

"Tate..."

"Again, shut it." She leaned in, left a quick kiss on his cheek and then disappeared as she swung her jacket over her shoulders. From inside the hotel room, Sam heard the Mustang roar to live and then the familiar squeal of tires against asphalt. Looking at his cell phone, he scrolled through his phone book and highlighted Dean's phone number. For a second, he thought about calling him again and warning him that Tate was on her way, but decided against it.

"Nah. Not this time." He mumbled, laughing a little as he powered on the laptop.

----

As she strode toward the front door, Tate could still hear the Mustang winding down behind her; the engine cooling as she marched up the porch steps. Slamming her fist into the wood, she waited barely patiently for it to open. _"Ten, nine, eight...deep breath...seven, six five, four...if he's in there, he's a dead man...three, two, one, zero. I don't feel any better." _The door swung inward just as she started counting down negative numbers. Her purple eyes narrowed in on Cassie's pajama clad form and cocked an eye brow at her sleep wrecked hair, wrinkled clothes and somewhere, caught the scent that was purely Dean wafting up off of her.

"Oh...umh...good morning Tate."

"Yeah, whatever. Is he here?"

"Is who here?"

"You play dumb with me and I'll break your nose. I'm only going to ask one more time, is he inside?" Tate growled, leaning in so she was almost face to face with Cassie.

"He took off about fifteen minutes ago, Sam called. He said something came up and Sam needed his help or something. I don't know, I really wasn't listening."

"I wonder why?" Tate snapped. "So, if he's not here, you won't mind if I come in for a cup of coffee, then huh?"

"I'm really busy, I have to go..." Cassie's sentence was cut short by Tate's sharp shoulder ramming into hers as the redhead pushed her way into the front hallway. Tate's heavy boots clunked as she made her way into the house, turning sharply into the living room where the pull out couch bed still sat, open and nowhere close to being made. A sudden cold feeling dropped into her stomach as she starred at it, in her mind's eye she could almost see what happened there and felt like she was going to puke, right then and there on the toes of her shoes. Tears pricked at her eyes, how could he do that? How? After everything they had been through in the past year? Why would he...and then it clicked; he was Dean and he was never going to change. Walking further into the room, moving closer to the bed with each step she took, her eyes landed on a familiar shape and cocked an eye brow at it.

_"Oh God, don't let that be what I think it is." _She prayed silently as she bent down and with her thumb and index finger plucked the soft piece of fabric up out of the tangle of blankets. Bringing the starched white material to her nose, she inhaled the scent that made up Dean: leather, oil, gun powder, aftershave and soap, and screwed her eyes shut. Out from under her lashes, several tears trickled down her face. That was it. This was the last straw. She knew he flirted constantly with anything that checked 'female' off on any official documents, but this...this was it. He had taken it to a whole 'nother level. She was done, done playing his game and done with him.

"...take it black? Or with milk and sugar?" Hearing Cassie's voice, Tate spun around and glared at her. She was standing there with two coffee cups in her hand, looking like she had done nothing wrong. Gripping the undershirt tightly in one fist, Tate crossed the room in two long steps and stood toe to toe with Cassie. She was taller than her, she noticed that right away, even without her platformed boots, she was taller and being taller was a simple way to intimidate a person. Staring down at her, Tate reached out and flipped both coffee cups out of her hands, not caring that she sent scalding hot liquid onto both of them. Cassie screamed a little when the coffee touched her skin, but Tate did nothing, just kept staring.

"Tate! What was that..." Again, she was cut off and this time it was by Tate jamming the shirt almost in her face.

"This! This is what that was for." Tate growled, the redness of her eyes clashed badly with the purple.

"Tate, I..."

"Save it. If you see him, tell him we're done." She nearly shouted and then stepped back, wiping her thumb across her cheek. "And keep your fucking coffee."

----

Jamming the key into the lock, Dean pushed the door to their hotel room open and walked inside, shrugging his coat off as he went. Sam was behind him, still talking about everything that had happened during their day. It had just been the two of them, only a handful of people who had seen them asked where Tate was and Dean couldn't give them an honest answer, seeing as he didn't even know up until a few minutes ago when he pulled up alongside the Mustang. Coming further into the room, both of them noticed Tate sitting on the other bed, knees drawn up to her chest and her laptop resting on her thighs. Her hair had been whisked up into a messy bun on top of her head and her glasses were perched on her nose. Gone were the jeans, the shirt she wore earlier and the boots, instead she was barefoot wearing a pair of sweat pants that were rolled up to the knees and the tank top she always slept in. She looked like she was working.

"Hey Tate."

"Hey Sammy." She said, her eyes never leaving the screen. Sam nudged Dean in the ribs; both had spoken to Cassie and heard all she said was that Tate told her that she wanted to talk to Dean later on in person. Not exactly what she had been told, but she couldn't bring herself to tell Dean the truth. The look he sent his brother shouted 'go talk to her!' in big bold letters and with a nod, Dean padded over to her bed. Sitting at the foot, Tate's eyes peered over her glasses and narrowed in at him. A smirk tugged on his lips and she felt sick again.

"Hey baby." He tried smoothly, squeezing her knee.

"Don't touch me..."

"Tate..."

"Or speak to me."

"What? Why?" She didn't say anything, just moved the computer from her lap and reached behind her, pulling something out from behind the pillows she was leaning against. Tossing the shirt into his lap, she mirrored his smirk and gracefully got out of bed.

"I found that at Cassie's."

"Tate, it's not what it looks like."

"So you're saying it isn't your shirt? 'Cuz that's what it looks like to me. And guess where I found it?"

"I...I dunno."

"Then let me remind you where you left it, in her bed."

"Tate..."

"I said don't talk to me." Tate hissed as she pushed past Sam and headed toward the bathroom. "When I get out of here, I want you off my bed and sleeping somewhere else."

"Tate..."

"Dean, I'm done." She told him as she slammed the door behind her.

* * *

_Nightmare _is next. Any suggestions, questions, comments, concerns...let me know. -B.E 


	18. Nightmare

**Hey guys! This is by far the longest chapter I've written for K&Q. Word tells me it's 13 pages. Now, it probably is because I have what I like to call Detail Overload Disorder; D.O.D for short. Now, onto the chapter. HotforJensen101 left a review mentioning something about Tate being taken hostage by Max, ya know the creep with the mind-bendy-spoon powers? Now, I'm not sure if this is exactly what was meant by "hostage" but this is where my crazy lil' mind ran with it. Yeah, ran so far I wrote 13 pages...damn. Anyways, this is what I came up with and I hope you guys like this. --B.E **

**P.S--Before anyone gets confused, I'm sure most of you have seen Nightmare, so where the scene changes, is Sam's vision and then when it changes again, its...well I'm calling it real time. Ya know, when Dean's brains don't get splashed up against the wall. Just wanted to clear that up beforehand. Shutting up now. **

* * *

**Nightmare  
****Night Terrors**

Tate chewed nervously on her bottom lip as she watched Sam rub at his forehead from her seat in the back of the Impala. She wasn't exactly sure what the hell was going on with him. Really, she wasn't one to talk; this was the same young woman who could make it rain if she thought hard enough about it. Reaching forward, she squeezed his shoulder tightly and gave him a soft smile.

"Max is doing it. Everything I've been seeing." Sam groaned as she took her hand back.

"You sure about this?" Dean asked, looking over to him.

"Yeah, I saw."

"How's he pullin' it off?"

"I don't know. It looked like telekinesis."

"So, he's psychic? He's a spoon-bender?"

"Dean! Jesus Christ!" Tate snapped, flicking the back of his ear.

"What? Is there a new politically correct term that I missed?"

"No! But still…Christ, be a little well…dunno, considerate." She growled. "So, what else about this vision thing, Sammy?"

"I didn't even realize it, but this whole time he was there. He was outside of the garage when his dad died, he was in the apartment when his uncle died. These visions, this whole time, I wasn't connecting to the Millers, I was connecting to Max. The thing I don't get is why, man? I guess because we're so alike?"

"What are you talking about? The dude's nothing like you."

"Yeah really, Sammy you're not him. And for once, I actually agree with Dean."

"Thank you baby."

"Don't call me baby." Sam rolled his eyes, they still were hardly on speaking terms after the whole Cassie thing. It had taken awhile, but things were slowly starting to come back to that very confused, very screwed up, normal to only them relationship.

"Yeah…Well, we both have psychic abilities. We're both…" Sam started, but was cut off.

"Both what? Sam, Max is a monster. He's already killed two people, and now he's gunnin' for a third."

"Well, with what he went through…the beatings. To want revenge on those people, I'm sorry, man, I hate to say it, but it's not that insane."

"Yeah, but it doesn't justify murdering your entire family." Tate piped in, shaking her head slightly. "The kid isn't all right in the head. What are we supposed to do with him? Let him do these things? Who knows what else he's capable of?"

"Tate…"

"No, she's right. He's no different than anything else we've hunted. Alright, we've gotta end him." Dean said as he pulled the car to a stop.

"We're not gonna kill Max." Sam protested.

"Then what? I hand him over to the cops and say: _Lock him up, officer, he kills with the power of his mind._"_  
_

"Forget it. No way, man."

"Sam…"

"Dean. He's a person. We can talk to him. Hey, promise me you'll follow my lead on this one." Sam asked, looking at his brother.

"Alright, fine. But I'm not lettin' him hurt anybody else." Dean agreed, as he pulled out a gun from the glove compartment.

"Tate?"

"I'm not bringing a gun, but I'm not making any promises either. One step out of line and he's toast. I'll level the house if I have to."

"Tate!"

"Sam! Think about it, he killed two, might make three and then what? What about the three of us? I don't think so." She said, popping open her door and sliding out of the backseat. Smiling, Dean turned toward Sam and nodded over to Tate.

"I love that woman…"

"This week you do." Sam mumbled and Dean chose to ignore him.

"And one day, I'm gonna marry her."

"If she doesn't kill you first."

"Shut up Sammy. And besides, we've made it this far."

"And how many times has she beaten you up?" Sam asked before getting out, joining Tate on the sidewalk. She was standing there, swinging her arms and snapping her fingers. Looking up at them, she yawned widely and then checked her watch.

"Glad you two decided to get out of the car. Done gossiping girls?" She asked, pulling her lock picking kit out from her jacket pocket.

"Yes we are. And you're gonna break into a house with that?"

"How would you like me to do it Dean? Blast the door open?" She snarled as she followed him up the flower trimmed walkway.

"No. Just knock it down." He said, nodding to Sam and on three, they rammed their shoulders into it. Tate jumped back.

"Fathers?" The woman who Tate guessed was Mrs. Miller called, walking out of the kitchen.

"What are you doing here? Who's she?" That must be Max and Tate almost growled at him. So this was the kid that was driving Sam nuts? Hell, he was smaller than her; she could knock him out with one properly placed fist to the temple. "Who is she?!"

"She's a friend, don't yell at her." Dean shouted before turning back to Mrs. Miller. "Uh…sorry to interrupt."

"Max, could we, uh…could we talk to you outside for just one second?" Sam asked, looking at the young man.

"About what?"

"It's…its private. I wouldn't wanna bother your mother with it. We won't be long at all, though. I promise." Sam told him and Tate watched as he glanced over at his stepmother. She had only seen him for a few minutes and already didn't like this kid. Why couldn't she just blow him up or something fun like that? It would make her happy.

"Okay." Max agreed.

"Great." Sam said as he and Dean started for the door; Tate lagged behind and kept her eyes on Max. The kid turned his head for a second and Tate turned with him, both of them saw it happen at the same time. Dean's shirt had ridden up in the back and the gun he had jammed into the waist of his jeans was sticking out. All around her, things started slamming; the door and the windows all locked on their own.

"You're not priests!" Max yelled as Dean pulled out the gun and pointed it at him. Sam waved Tate over to him, bringing her out of the line of fire. But there never anything fired, Max with what Sam had called his telekinesis and grabbed the gun from him. It dropped to the floor right in front of Max, who bent down to pick it up; only to turn it on the three of them.

"Can I electrocute him now?" Tate hissed into Dean's ear.

"Max, what's happening?!" His stepmother demanded.

"Shut up!"

"What are you doing?!" Tate gasped as all Max did was jerk his head and sent his stepmother flying. Without thinking, she rushed over to the woman who landed with a thump after smacking her head on the kitchen counter. Gently, she helped her sit up and looked her dead in the eye.

"What's happening? Why is he doing these things?" She asked quietly, tears leaking from her eyes.

"I don't know Mrs. Miller. I really don't."

"Can you stop him? Stop him before he hurts someone else?" She asked as Tate turned her head to listen to what was going out in the hallway. Sam was still pleading with the kid, trying to explain his visions to him.

"I'm not sure if we can stop him, but Sam and Dean will try."

"What about you?"

"You don't want me to help."

"Why? Why won't you help?"

"It's not that I don't want to help, it's just it could get a little nasty if I have to get involved. Let's just say that I'm a last resort." A beat or two later, Dean walked into the kitchen and pulled Tate to her feet. Pulling her into his chest, Dean leaned down until he was level with her ear.

"You, me and Mrs. Miller are going upstairs, but if we hear anything…"

"We come back down. You sure leaving Sam down here is safe? I mean, the kid isn't all there."

"He says he'll be fine."

"All right." Tate sighed. She trusted Sam. Helping Mrs. Miller to her feet, they walked back out of the kitchen and headed up stairs. Running her fingers over the banister, Tate eyed Max closely and scowled. "Just one little shock, c'mon."

"No Tate."

"You never let me have any fun." She pouted as they turned down the upstairs hall. Pushing open one of the doors that lined the hall, Tate peered into a bedroom. Holding the door open, she let Dean and Mrs. Miller walk in first. "Mrs. Miller, where's your bathroom?"

"Down the hall, first door on the right."

"Where are you going?"

"I asked where the bathroom was, where do you think?" She snapped, glaring at Dean. He asked the dumbest questions sometimes.

"Just come back, okay?"

"No Dean, I think I'm gonna take a bath while I'm in there. And maybe, I'll paint my toe nails too." Rolling her eyes, she walked out of the room and then down the hall until she came to the bathroom. Inside the small room, she tore through each cabinet and closet in there until she found a small washcloth. Coming back a few minutes later, she had the same washcloth in hand, now it was damp and dripping slightly down her hand, Tate stepped into the room and made her way toward Mrs. Miller, who was sitting at the foot of the bed.

"So, what color are your nails?" Dean asked, looking up at her with a smirk on his face.

"Ass. For that, you get to play doctor." She muttered, throwing the wet rag at him.

"Oh really? So, Miss King…"

"Not with me, moron. With Mrs. Miller." Mrs. Miller flushed slightly and looked away from Dean, while he just stared at Tate. "I brought that back so I could clean up the cut on her head, asshole."

"Oh. Oh, okay. I…I can do that." Dean muttered, coming around the bed and kneeled in front of Mrs. Miller.

"Yeah, you can do that." Tate said, rolling her eyes, as she folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against the wall, keeping her eyes on the door. From downstairs she swore she heard something slam against a wall, it was a familiar thud followed by a familiar shout. Was it Sam? What the hell was going on down there?

----

Tate swore she could hear footsteps coming upstairs. Peaking half of her head out, she spied Max walking toward the room they room and quickly pulled herself back. Shit. Looking toward Dean, she whistled softly—a signal from when they first started hunting together—and nodded toward the door. Dean nodded back, but did nothing, she knew he wasn't going to and stayed where he was, pressing the wash cloth to Mrs. Miller's forehead. Next to her, the halfway shut door swung open on it's own. Max. Double shit. Watching the younger man step into the room, Tate bit down nervously on her lip and tried to think of the easiest way out. Kill the kid, find Sam and get the hell out of dodge; easier said than done.

The sound of the door shutting pulled her from her thoughts and with wide eyes, watched as Max barely blinked at Dean, who was slowly standing up, and sent him flying into the wall across from her. Biting back a scream, she saw Max pull the gun Dean had brought in with them from his hip. She had been standing flat against the wall since Max walked in, she wondered if he actually saw her there. _"Well, he'll see me now." _She thought, as she pushed off the wall and scrambled across the bed to get to Dean. Looking at the Dean shaped hole in the wall, she reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, helping him to his feet. Turning away from the wall and Dean, Tate spun around just in time to see Max aiming the gun at the both of them. Max let go of the handle and let it float in the air before them, the gun pivoting between her and Dean and Mrs. Miller. Staring at the silver pistol, Tate clucked her tongue; that was her gun.

"_So, that's where it went. Dean scoffed it. Asshole." _She watched as the gun cocked itself, the bullet sliding into the chamber. _"I'm going to be shot with my own gun. Dad would be proud." _She thought as she wrapped a hand around Dean's arm.

"Max! No Max!" Mrs. Miller cried as the gun came to a halt in front of her; even following her as she stood up next to Dean. _"Shit." _Dean shrugged her hand off of his arm and slid in between Mrs. Miller and the gun. Biting her lip again, she wasn't exactly sure what she could do, but somewhere along the way her thoughts drifted and a second later she jumped as she heard the familiar roll of thunder rattle the bedroom windows.

"Stay back. It's not about you." Max said: his voice shaky with tears.

"If you wanna kill her, you gotta go through me first." Dean shot back and it took all Tate had not to knock him on his ass. The window shook harder and came unlocked, the bottom pane sliding up in its track. A gust of wind tore through the room and pushed Dean away from Mrs. Miller and the gun. Being the 'act first, think later' person she was, Tate took Dean's place and stared down the barrel of her own gun.

"Tate!"

"Shut up Dean! He's not going to pull the trigger. He won't." She yelled back. Behind her, she could hear Mrs. Miller crying and pleading with her stepson, begging him not to do it.

"Max you hurt her and I'll kill you myself." Dean growled, reaching for Tate, only to be slapped away before he could grab her.

"He's not going to do it. I know it. He isn't brave enough to do it."

"Yes I am!" Max growled and the trigger squeezed back on its own accord. The last thing that went through Tate's mind before the quick jolt of pain and the flash of black was that maybe, just maybe, taking Dean's place was the smartest thing she had ever done. Mrs. Miller shrieked as blood exploded out in front of her, splattering the wall behind her and with a lifeless, boneless thud, Tate fell to the ground; a small round hole burrowed through the center of her forehead.

----

Tate swore she could hear footsteps coming upstairs. Peaking half of her head out, she spied Max walking toward the room they room and quickly pulled herself back. Shit. Looking toward Dean, she whistled softly—a signal from when they first started hunting together—and nodded toward the door. Dean nodded back, but did nothing, she knew he wasn't going to and stayed where he was, pressing the wash cloth to Mrs. Miller's forehead. Next to her, the halfway shut door swung open on it's own. Max. Double shit. Watching the younger man step into the room, Tate bit down nervously on her lip and tried to think of the easiest way out. Kill the kid, find Sam and get the hell out of dodge; easier said than done.

The sound of the door shutting pulled her from her thoughts and with wide eyes, watched as Max barely blinked at Dean, who was slowly standing up, and sent him flying into the wall across from her. Biting back a scream, she saw Max pull the gun Dean had brought in with them from his hip. She had been standing flat against the wall since Max walked in, she wondered if he actually saw her there. _"Well, he'll see me now." _She thought, as she pushed off the wall and scrambled across the bed to get to Dean. Looking at the Dean shaped hole in the wall, she reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, helping him to his feet. Turning away from the wall and Dean, Tate spun around just in time to see Max aiming the gun at the both of them. Max let go of the handle and let it float in the air before them, the gun pivoting between her and Dean and Mrs. Miller. Staring at the silver pistol, Tate clucked her tongue; that was her gun.

"_So, that's where it went. Dean scoffed it. Asshole." _She watched as the gun cocked itself, the bullet sliding into the chamber. _"I'm going to be shot with my own gun. Dad would be proud." _She thought as she wrapped a hand around Dean's arm.

"Max! No Max!" Mrs. Miller cried as the gun came to a halt in front of her; even following her as she stood up next to Dean. _"Shit." _Dean shrugged her hand off of his arm and slid in between Mrs. Miller and the gun. Biting her lip again, she wasn't exactly sure what she could do, but somewhere along the way her thoughts drifted and a second later she jumped as she heard the familiar roll of thunder rattle the bedroom windows.

"Stay back. It's not about you." Max said: his voice shaky with tears.

"If you wanna kill her, you gotta go through me first." Dean shot back and it took all Tate had not to knock him on his ass. The window shook harder and came unlocked, the bottom pane sliding up in its track. A gust of wind tore through the room and pushed Dean away from Mrs. Miller and the gun. Being the 'act first, think later' person she was, Tate took Dean's place and stared down the barrel of her own gun.

"Tate!"

"Shut up Dean! He's not going to pull the trigger. He won't." She yelled back. Behind her, she could hear Mrs. Miller crying and pleading with her stepson, begging him not to do it.

"Max you hurt her and I'll kill you myself." Dean growled, reaching for Tate, only to be slapped away before he could grab her.

"He's not going to do it. I know it. He isn't brave enough to do it."

"Yes I am!" Max growled and the trigger squeezed back on its own accord. Tate clamped her eyes shut tight; she didn't want to see the quick blur of the bullet or the horrified look on Dean's face when it hit her. But it never came, instead, in its place she heard the door crash open, nearly flying off of it's hinges. Opening her eyes slowly, she watched Sam burst into the room and let out the breath she had been holding in. _"Okay, not dying today."_ She thought as she felt Dean's hands on her hips and gently pulled her away from the gun. "No, don't! Don't! Please. Please, Max. Max, we can help you, alright? But this…what you're doing…it's not the solution. It's not gonna fix anything." Sam begged, looking at Max, who was just staring back at him.

"You're right." He said looking at Sam, before whipping his head around and turning the gun on himself; shooting himself in the head. The recoil sent his body backwards, falling onto the floor.

"No!" Sam shouted, even though it was useless. Tate shrieked and turned in Dean's arms, burying her face in his shoulder. She had seen a lot of things, but that…well, that was a new one.

"Oh my God. Max!" Mrs. Miller screamed, tears filling her eyes.

"Sammy, take her out of here and call the cops. Jesus." Dean told him and Sam just nodded numbly. With a hand on the small of her back, Sam lead Mrs. Miller out of the room and even with her face still buried in Dean's shoulder, Tate could hear the two of them walking down the steps, Mrs. Millers sobs echoed throughout the house. "Tate? Tae? Tae, look at me." Picking her head up, her eyes flicked up towards him and gave him half of a shaky smile.

"Yeah?" She asked softly, knowing full well what was going to happen next. Dean gently pushed her back to an arms length and looked her square in the eye. _"Okay…," _She thought_, "…let me have it." _

And he did.

"That was the stupidest, most fucked-up thing I have ever seen you do! What the hell! Tate, you could've gotten yourself killed! Christ, didn't you think about that? Did you! Did you think about what would happen afterwards? Huh? What about me and Sam? And Fancy? And our dads? Hell, what about your dad! Did you think about that?" He snarled, his eyes narrowing down at her.

"No. No, I didn't think. I just acted." She mumbled as she fiercely swiped at a tear that was rolling down her face. "And besides, everything happened so fast, I didn't have time to think about all of that. All I was thinking about was if you were out of the way, you and Sam could still take care of him, get rid of him if need be. I wasn't too worried about me." Her eyes were cast downward and her finger nails had become the most important thing in the world.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" He whispered into her ear, stroking her sides with the pads of his thumbs.

"That's my line."

"Where do you think I got it from?" Tate smiled slightly and tugged the sleeves of her sweat shirt down over her hands, so she could dry her face.

"Are you done yelling at me now?"

"Yeah." Dean breathed into her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Just don't ever do something like that again. Christ, you nearly gave me a heart attack."

"I'm good at that." Dean shook his head, the same way Tate did when the roles were reserved, and leaned down to catch her lips. It was the first time she let him kiss her since the whole Cassie thing. It wasn't a rough kiss, it was an actual honest to God, boyfriend/girlfriend—if they actually gave themselves those titles—kiss.

"Guys?" Sam's voice came from the doorway. Pulling apart, the two looked over at him and waited for him to say more. "The cops are downstairs." Nodding, the three headed downstairs and stepped down in the living room just in time to see a cop standing in the living room talking to Mrs. Miller. Someone had bandaged the cut on her head, the gauze was already stained red.

"Mrs. Miller, what exactly happened?" The officer asked his notepad out and opened to a fresh page.

"Max attacked me. He threatened me with a gun."

"And these three?" He asked, nodding toward her, Sam and Dean.

"They're….family friends. I called them as soon as Max arrived, I was scared." Mrs. Miller's voice broke as more tears flooded her eyes. "They tried to stop him. Tate…she…she was with me, trying to find something for my head. The boys, they fought for the gun."

"Where did Max get the gun?"

"I don't know! He showed up with it, and…" She finally broke down, sobs escaping her and more tears than before."

"It's alright, Mrs. Miller."

"I've lost everyone!"

"Okay. We'll give you a call if we have any further questions." The officer said as he passed by the three of them. "Take your girlfriend home; she looks a little shaken up." Tate's upper lip curled.

"Thanks, officer. I will." Dean said, as the cop went to join his partner. "Come on."

"I've had enough of this for one night. Let's go." Tate mumbled as Dean slung an arm over her shoulders and walked out. The night air was cool around them, cops lined the block and all Tate wanted was to go back to the hotel and get some sleep, a shower, a cup of coffee…something.

"If I just said somethin' else. Gotten through to him somehow." Sam said, half to himself and half to her and Dean.

"Don't do that." Dean warned.

"Do what?"

"Torture yourself. It wouldn't have mattered what you said, Max was too far gone."

"When I think about how he looked at me, man, right before…I should've done something."

"Come on, man, you risked your life. I mean, yeah, maybe if we had gotten there twenty years earlier." Dean said as they got to the car. Leaning against the trunk, with her arms over her chest, Tate cocked an eye brow and watched the brothers.

"Well, I'll tell you one thing…we're lucky we had Dad."

"I never thought I'd hear you say that." Tate said, eye brows arching up into her hair line and laughed a little

"Well, he could've gone a whole 'nother way after Mom. A little more tequila, a little less demon-hunting, and we would've had Max's childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay…thanks to him."

"All things considered." Dean muttered with a smirk as he slid into the car. Pushing off the trunk, Tate raced around to the passenger's side and stuck her tongue out at Sam.

"I call shot-gun!" Tate yelled as she jumped in the car.

The ride back to the hotel was a quiet one, Tate sat up in the front and toyed with the radio while Sam sat quietly in the back and Dean occasionally yelled at her for switching the stations. By the time they got back to the hotel, they were listening to the news and Dean had a bruise on the back of his hand from Tate pinching him every time he slapped her hand away from the radio's dial. Walking into their room, Tate made a beeline for her bed and dropped down onto the sagging mattress.

"Oh no Princess, we're packing up."

"Why?" She asked, looking up from her pillow to lock eyes with Dean.

"We're leaving tonight."

"No. I'm sleeping."

"Then we're leaving you."

"Try it."

"I will leave you."

Ten minutes later, everything Tate had in the bathroom was being packed away in her make-up kit. Trudging out, she dropped the black zip-up bag into her duffle bag and zipped it closed. Dropping back down onto the bed, she glanced over to Sam and Dean who were still packing and laughed.

"Loser."

"Shut up Tate, how about you help me."

"How about…" She began, tapping her finger to her bottom lip. "…no." Sam laughed before turning to his brother.

"Dean, I've been thinking."

"Well, that's never a good thing."

"Dean…don't start." Tate scolded.

"Yes mom." She merely flipped him off.

"Guys, I'm serious. I've been thinking…why would this demon, or whatever it is, why would it kill Mom and Jessica and Max's mother, you know, what does it want?"

"No idea. Tate?"

"Don't look at me, I've got enough issues as is."

"Well, you think maybe it was after us? After Max and me?"

"Why would you think that?"

"I mean, either telekinesis or premonitions, we both had abilities, you know? Maybe it was after us for some reason."

"Sam, if it wanted you, it would've just taken you, okay? This is not your fault. It's not about you." Dean said, dropping a bag next to Tate.

"Then what is it about?"

"It's about that damn thing that did this to our family. The thing that we're gonna find, the thing that we're gonna kill. And that's all."

"Actually, there's, uh, somethin' else, too."

"Oh, jeez, what?"

"When Max locked me in that closet, that big cabinet against the door…I moved it."

"You've got a little bit more upper body strength than I give you credit for."

"No, man, I moved it…like Max."

"Oh. Right."

"Yeah." Sam said as Dean grabbed a spoon out of one of Tate's bags. She had brought it along with her small, travel coffee maker. None of the roadside hotels had coffee makers, their coffee tasted like shit and the ones that did have the damn coffee pots were too expensive for them.

"Bend this."

"I can't turn it on and off, Dean."

"Well, how'd you do it?"

"I don't know, I can't control it. I saw you die, and it just came out of me, like a punch. You know, like a freak adrenaline thing."

"Well, I'm sure it won't happen again."

"Yeah, maybe. Aren't you worried, man, aren't you worried that I could turn into Max or something?"

"Nope. No way. You know why?"

"No. Why?"

"Cause you've got one advantage that Max didn't have."

"Dad? Because Dad's not here, Dean."

"No. Me." Dean said smiling and Tate rolled her eyes; sometimes he surprised her. "As long as I'm around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you. Now then, I know what we need to do about your premonitions. I know where we have to go."

"Where?" Sam asked, looking at his brothers as if he had all the answers. But Tate had a sinking feeling that what Dean was about to say wasn't going to be good or helpful at the least.

"Vegas." He said with a grin as Sam rolled his eyes and walked out to the car. "What? Come on, man. Craps table. We'd clean up." Rolling her eyes, Tate stood her feet and grabbed her duffle bag just as Dean turned the lights off in the room. Sneaking up behind him, she wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. "What was that for?"

"That was really sweet Dean. As long as you're around…aww…I'm gonna puke." She said and the kiss turned into a pinch. "Stop being an ass to your brother."

"What are you? My mother?"

"If I were, we'd have more issues than we already do."

"Funny lady tonight, huh?"

"I try." She said, her lips twitching up into a smile. "Now, give me that spoon."

"But I want him to bend it."

"Give me."

"I want him to bend it."

"I'll bend you if you don't hand it over." Turning around to face her, Dean smiled.

"Is that a promise? We can stay an extra night."

"No. It's not. Now, give me the spoon." Grumbling, he slapped it into her hand. "Thank you." She muttered, stepping out from behind him to walk toward the car; but not before slapping him on the ass. Laughing when he yelped, Tate shook her head and then walked toward the car, tossing her bag in the trunk and sliding into the backseat.

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_Benders anyone? Let me know. --B.E_


	19. Benders

**Hey Guys. So, this is The Benders. I owe Winchestersgirl a HUGE thanks for the idea for this one. I couldn't think of one actually and when I read her review it was like "BINGO!" Which lead to this drama. Haha. I took her idea and wound up going somewhere different at the end. But it works. **

**Okay, let me clear somethings up for those new to the drama that is Tate or to those who like to read my ramblings at the top of each chapter. 1. Tate does love Dean. 2. Dean does love Tate. 3.Niether of them come out and scream it at each other and that's what pisses Tate off. 4.Cassie pisses Tate off. 5. Tate and Dean have more issues than Marvel comics. 6. The fact that she has issues/problems/flaws and is as close to being human as she can be is what I think sets her apart from those friggin' Mary Sues. All right, so in my head which does include my stories, I see it like this; Dean has loved three women in his life: Mary (of course) Tate (if not, why would I put 'romance' up in the catogory?) and Cassie. Now, he didn't love Cassie like he loves Tate, it was a filler but it was still something close to being called love. She does love him, but there are times when she wants to and comes pretty close to killing him. This kiddies, would be a real relationship. And thats what makes it fun to write. Haha. So, does that make sense? I hope so. Haha. **

**Yes, I know Season 2 came out on Tuesday. Yes, I was at Best Buy when it opened and walked out doing a happy dance. Yes, I also know that I have to get my ass in gear. Funny thing, I already have ones written for **_**In My Time of Dying, Heart**_**, which I finished this afternoon, **_**What Is and What Should Never Be**_**—which is going to be the longest one of this whole series, its nine pages right now and I'm no where near done—and then I have stuff written down for **_**All Hell Breaks Loose 2**_**. Just wait till you see what she does there. Oh yes. So, Shadow and Hell House are next on the list. Let me know if you have anything. I want to get Season 1 finished before Season 3 starts. Cross your fingers everybody. **

**I hope you guys like this, thank WinchestersGirl for the idea and keep reading and reviewing. –B.E**

**

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****The Benders  
It Ends Tonight--_Thanks DarkWolfYingFa_****  
**  
"That's so gross." Tate muttered as she caught a glimpse of all the mud that had collected on the toes of her boots from walking up the long unpaved driveway. The flood lights overhead gave off enough light so she could figure out exactly where she was going and wasn't going to run into anything "unpleasant." In the darkness the lights that illuminated the grimy windows stuck out like a sore thumb and quickly, hopefully not stepping into anymore mud puddles, Tate sprinted over to the building. Tugging open one of the doors, she could hear something moving around further in the room and groped along the wall for a light switch. She found it a second later and smiled when she saw what was there. Sam. 

"Tate?"

"'Sup Sammy?" She asked, moving over to him. He was in a cage, like an animal. Who the hell did that? And what the hell was going on here? Other cages stood empty all around her.

"Have you seen Dean?"

"I was just going to ask you the same thing."

"What do you mean? I thought you came with him?"

"No. I followed behind. Why? Where'd he go?"

"To find a key to get me outta here."

"Shit. All right. I'll go find him." She said, raking a hand through her hair as she turned around. In the cage opposite Sam's was a woman, the police officer who had been helping Dean. "Same deal huh?"

"Yeah."

"I'll find him. Hang tight Sammy." She called over her shoulder as she went back out. Crossing the muddy grounds again, she came to the main house and headed toward what she figured to be the basement. Pushing against the door, which gave way too easy—Dean must've gone in this way—Tate walked inside and came into a cellar. The shelves around her were filled with mason canning jars and the part of her that was too curious for her own good, sent her walking toward the racks. Picking one up, she felt her gag reflex kick in and her hand began to shake. Squinting, she swore she whatever it was in there had once been inside a person. Oh gross. Her hand shook harder. The glass crashed on the cement below, a foul smelling liquid seeped out and trickled toward her boots. Up above her she heard the floor boards creek and then muffled voices. One must've been standing near the door, because she heard whoever it was clearly.

"What was that?" There was a muffled pause, whoever else was up there wasn't as close as the first guy. "Yeah, yer right. Probably just a rat or somethin'." Tate shuddered. Rats. Rats and snakes. And pickled body parts. Fucking gross.

The cellar stairs squealed as she went up them and gently, she pushed against the basement door. Stepping out into the main floor of the house, Tate took a quick look around, her hearing strained as she tried to find where those voices went or came from. All around her were more jars like the ones in the basement, bloodied and rusted tools and then came the voices.

"You think this is funny? You brought this down on my family. Alright, you wanna play games? We'll play some games. Looks like we're gonna have a hunt tonight after all, boys." There was another pause, but only lasted for half of a beat. "And you get to pick the animal. The boy or the cop?"

It was a man, but not the same one she heard down in the basement. So how many people were she dealing with exactly and where the hell was Dean? Hugging the wall she had pressed herself against, Tate inched toward them and found herself staring into what she figured to be a living room. With their backs to her, Tate counted three men and a little girl, all surrounding Dean who they had tied to a chair. Lovely. What a mess.

"Okay, wait, wait—look, nobody's comin' for me, alright? It's just us." He gasped, looking up at one of the three men. Her long hair fell down around her shoulders and face as she peered into the room and prayed that Dean would at least catch a glimpse of her face. Maybe. Just a peak. Something. Anything. Idiot.

"You don't choose, I will." He growled down at Dean as he brought a hot poker down onto his arm. Tate bit down on her bottom lip when he screamed.

"Oh, you son of a bitch!" The poker moved from his arm to right by his eye. Closing her eyes, she clenched her fists and turned away, if they were really going to do it, she didn't want to see it.

"Next time, I'll take an eye." The man growled as the two others held Dean's head back. Coming back around the wall, she watched Dean's eyes flick around the room and for a second, they stared at each other. Putting her finger to her lips, she shushed him as his eyes went wide. She didn't need to wind up in the chair next to him with a red hot poker aimed at her nose. She actually liked that part of her face and she'd be damned if a bunch of backwater, inbred hicks were going to ruin it.

"Alright, the guy, the guy! Take the guy!" Dean shouted. The older man—the father maybe?—tossed one of the two younger men a key he had around his neck. So, that was the key to the cages, Tate thought with a twitch of a grin on her lips. Maybe she could tackle him as he walked past? But there was that ever present chance that Dean could wind up with only one eye. So, there would be no tackling. Damn.

"Lee, go do it. Don't let him out, though. Shoot him in the cage." The man said and the younger man, Lee, nodded. Seeing him coming her way, with all thoughts of knocking him down gone, Tate ducked out of Dean's line of sight and scrambled down the hall. Lee came out and looked her way, only to find nothing. Tate had found a small hall closet filled with heavy flannel coats and snow boots and closed the door tightly behind her. She stayed in there, hidden behind the layers of winter clothing for God knows how long. It might've only been a few minutes but then, after what felt like an eternity, she heard a gun shot go off. She flinched, not knowing what the hell had happened out there. But if that shot had hit Sam, she was going to kill someone. She could hear Dean threatening the same thing out in the living room. God help them if anything had happened to the younger Winchester.

"Yeah, like you're in any position to do anything about it. Asshole." She muttered angrily. The two were barely speaking to each other, it had been that way for the last couple days. Cassie had called, "updating" them on everything that had happened since they left and had "saved" her from that monster pick-up truck. Tate had flown off the handle, demanding to know what else she had said; Dean had taken the rest of the call outside their hotel room, a safe enough distance away so Tate wouldn't hear them. He hadn't and refused to tell her and she nearly punched him in the mouth.

"Lee!" It was the father's voice that rang throughout the house. When he didn't get an answer back, she heard him say to the little girl—her name was Missy—that she was to watch Dean. Then he left and so did the other man, obviously following his father out to check on his brother. After making sure that they weren't coming back, Tate turned the knob as quietly as she could and crept out of her hiding place. The house seemed to be empty now, but she knew better than that, and walked through the hall as quickly and quietly as she could; trying to avoid any floor boards that could squeak under the soles of her boots.

In the living room, the little girl stood guard, her sharp little blade held up to Dean's face. Great. Now, the cops could add endangering a minor and child abuse to her never ending record, along with breaking and entering, hijacking several cars; including two squad cars and a state troopers car that one time, possibly murder and about a hundred missing persons reports to pin to her name. Lovely. Out of habit, she caught Dean glancing at her out of the corner of her eye and pressed her finger to her lips again. With careful footsteps, she crept up behind Missy and was almost there when the toe of her boot smacked against the side of the moth eaten, nearly threadbare couch. With a sharp snap, the little girl spun around and waved the knife at Tate.

"Oh please sweetheart, that little apple peeler...ow! You little bitch!" Tate shrieked, slapping her hand over the shallow slice that she had ripped in her left pant leg. It was bleeding pretty nicely and seeping into the pale blue denim of her jeans. "Damn brat!"

"How'd you get in here?" Missy sneered, her upper lip curling as she growled at her.

"Came in through the basement door." Tate took a step back as the girl swiped at her again, trying to add another cut to her other leg. "You guys should really invest in a better security system." The girl swiped again and this time caught Tate across the back of the hand. "Bitch!"

"Stop yelling and do something about her!" Dean shouted, tugging at the ropes that were tying his wrists down to the arms of the chair.

"You do something! She's cutting me! Stop it you little brat!" She screamed as another nick was added to her hand. "Okay kid, I'm done playing." She growled and reached for her hand, the same hand she had the knife in. Wrapping her fingers around her wrist, Tate twisted her thin arm until her fingers unwound and the knife fell to the floor, making a small clatter of a sound. She whimpered as Tate's nails dug into her skin. "That's enough playing. Time for a time out!" She snapped, pulling a long strip of material off of the junk covered table behind Dean and tied it around her wrists. Tying the knot tight, Tate dropped her onto the couch and stuck her tongue out at her. "Haha ya little beast."

Bending down, Tate scooped up the small blade she had been carrying and spun it around in her fingers. It was no bigger than a paring knife, but was almost as sharp as one of the knives Tate and the boys hunted with. It looked to be sharp enough to cut through the ropes tired around Dean's wrists. Walking over to him, going slow on purpose, she gave him a smirk before kneeling down next on the right side of the chair. Spinning the blade again, she ran it in between his skin and the wood of the arm and pressed hard against the rope.

"C'mon Tae, you know how to work faster than this!" He growled a minute later, tugging at his less than half cut away binds.

"You want faster? You can always call Cassie for help. I can leave your ass tied to this chair." She snapped, dragging the blade a little too close to his skin, all on "accident" of course.

"This is why you're pissed? The Cassie thing still?"

"_Cassie thing_? Are you kidding me?" She shouted, standing back up. "You've got to be kidding right? It's not just a thing! Dude, she calls out of nowhere, all giggles and airy 'Hi Dean' and then you take the call outside! What the hell?!"

"Jesus Tate, she wanted to talk to me." He growled up at her. "We're not having this fight now. No, not now! Can you untie me, please?" She paused, as if she was thinking about it and then dropped the knife into his lap.

"Do it yourself."

"Tate!" He snarled, his fingers trying to work toward the small blade. Shaking her head, she yanked her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and tossed it at him, landing right next to the knife. "Tate! C'mon, a little help!"

"Call Cassie for help!" She stood there, one hip popped out and folded her arms over her chest. Oh Lord, Dean knew what that meant, she wasn't going to budge. "C'mon, call her. Or do you want me to leave the room so you guys can talk in private?"

"Tate this is crazy!" Behind them, Missy was wiggling, tugging at her wrists and playing with the frayed ends. "C'mon. Just help me here! Christ!" Grabbing the knife off of his lap, her upper lip curled as she ran the blade through the old, graying ropes and let them fall to the ground below, kicking them away when they hit her shoes.

"Happy now?" Before Dean could come up with a snarky remark, the little girl slid back onto the floor and ran out of the room. "Shit!" Taking off, Tate scrambled down the hallway after her, skipping over the things the little brat knocked off shelves in order to trip her up. She could hear Dean behind her and swooped down, grabbing a leather bound book off the floor. In front of her, Missy ran toward the door. She was going to find her father and the other two. Oh hell no. Tightening her grip on the spine of the book, she sent it flying—with a little help from a conjured burst of wind—and watched as it struck the girl in the small of the back, sending her face first onto the hardwood below.

"Score!"

"Sick and twisted." She heard Dean mumble behind her. Ignoring him, she walked over to the girl and grabbed her by one of her arms.

"Grab the other Smart Ass. We gotta put her somewhere." Nodding, Dean grabbed her other arm and even though she was light enough for him to carry, they dragged her to the closet none the less. It was the same closet Tate had been hiding in before. Tossing her in there, Dean slammed the door and stood in front of it, in case Missy got any wild ideas, while Tate dug through the buckets upon buckets of rusted out tools and supplies until she found what she was looking for; bailing twine. Bringing the rope with her, she walked back to the closet and pushed Dean away from the door.

"Move Ass-Munch."

"Ass-Munch?"

"Did I stutter?"

"No. So, what are we doing? Tying her up?"

"No. I'm tying her up, you're standing guard. Now move out of my way."

"At least let me help." Yanking the door open, the little girl blinked owlishly up at her, as if she was just waking up, and scrubbed at her eyes.

"Fine. Whatever. Just hold her." Crouching behind her, Dean wrapped an arm around her tiny waist and kept her arms out in front so Tate could tie them together. She fought them of course, kicking and screaming and the occasional bite. Damn brat. Her jagged dirty nails caught some of the still bleeding cuts and tore at them, opening them wider and making them bleed more.

"When I said hold her, that meant make her stop moving!"

"What do you want me to do? Knock her out?"

"Dude! She bit me! Maybe if you'd stop thinking about your other girlfriend, you'd pay more attention and I wouldn't have bite marks!" She snapped and was so very tempted to slap the little beast across the mouth. Her sharp little teeth clamped down on her hand again and this time, with her free hand, she brought it up and cracked her across the mouth. "Stop it! Dean!"

"You heard her, princess! Now, tie her up." Dean growled, wrapping his hand around both of her wrists and jutted them toward Tate. Quickly, she tied them together and then did her ankles. "She didn't say anything. Just said what was going on and thanked us again."

"What?" Tate asked, looking up from the knot she was making and almost got kicked in the face when Missy decided to throw her leg out. "What the hell are you talking about? I almost got a broken nose."

"Cassie."

"Dude, I don't give a shit what she said. She still calls and you still take 'em."

"I thought you wanted to know!"

"No! I wanted to know why the hell she keeps calling! You two aren't together anymore. We are! We have been! Tell her to accept it!"

"I have! She doesn't...ow! She bit me!"

"Demon spawn red-neck or not, she's still a girl and we all think the same way, she must think you deserve it!"

"Deserve it! That's bullshit! Gag her."

"You can do it! I'm not helping!"

"Tate! All over Cassie?"

"Everything is all over Cassie! Don't you get that? I'm not playing second to some cheap little rebound relationship you had when I left!" She snapped as she stood up, leaving Missy in the closet with Dean sitting on the messy ground. "Screw you Dean, I should've just found Sam and the key and gotten the hell out of here. I would've left your ass here. But no. I decide to be the good person and I wind up getting into a fight with you and some little hell cat in training. Whatever. I'm done. And I mean done, like in last time Cassie got involved, that kinda done."

"Tate! Tate come back!"

"No. Your mess, you clean it up now."

She was out the door, down the steps and walking up the muddy driveway, retracing her steps, when she heard another gun shot ring out. God only knows who or what got hit but no. She was so pissed at him, she wasn't going back. It was time to put the Cassie thing to rest. She couldn't deal with this. She had enough problems. In the King/Winchester world, she was the one that kept everything together. When Sam freaked out, Dean was there and then the other way around. If their dads were around, they'd do as much as they could, but if not, it was Tate. She was the one that held everyone together. But no. Dean just had to go add more to the drama and more stress. If Tate was the smart one, she'd kill him. She could kill and make it look like a complete accident.

"Tate!" God. She couldn't even get ten minutes alone. Bastard. "Tate! Get back here!"

"No! What do you want?" Why she turned around was beyond her. But when she did, Tate caught a glimpse of Sam. All right. That was better than nothing. At least Sam was alive. Maybe it was lady cop? Or one of those men. Hey, all that mattered as it wasn't Sam.

"Come here. We need to talk."

"You want to talk, you come up here. I'm halfway to my car, I'm not coming back there." She said, stopped in the middle and put her hands on hips. "I'm going back to the hotel, packing my crap and leaving."

"And going where?"

"I'll go home! Home is normal, so maybe I'll just start over again."

"You're going home because of Cassie?"

"That's one of the reasons." Sam stayed back and rolled his eyes, not again. She was threatening to leave, Dean was fighting with her and this time, she actually didn't have to go back in the house to get her keys, she had them in her pocket. She might do it.

"You're not leaving."

"Yes. I am. You can call Cassie and tell her the good news. I already told you, I'm done. What part of that don't you seem to get?"

"You're not leaving me again!"

"Who the hell is going to stop me? You! You didn't stop me last time asshole! I swear to God, Dean. Nothing's changed. Its still girl after girl after girl or Cassie and I'm just a second thought. I'm there when you get back from the bar and the only time you pay me any attention is when you want something or the girls aren't interested. Dude, I'm going home. Sammy, you want a ride back to the hotel?"

"If you have the Mustang." Sam said, speaking up for the first time. Dean threw his younger brother a cold look, but he knew if Sam was in the car with her, she wouldn't run away. Turning back on her heel in the mud, Tate started walking again and got about fifteen steps away from where she had been when Dean ran up behind her, grabbing her around the waist.

"Stay, huh? Please."

"Why should I? I told you I'm done with you. Call Cassie and go celebrate that fact that you don't have a girlfriend anymore. Well you haven't had one since I came back right? Seeing as I'm just that girl who caused the rebound right? Oh wait. I forgot. You're Dean Winchester, you don't do girlfriends. You just do girls."

Behind them, Sam cringed. This was the same fight they had been having for nearly ten years. It was always the same fight, just brought on by different things and was usually worded differently.

"Will you cut that out? And when was the last time I was with someone other than you?"

"Cassie. You slept with Cassie!" She shouted, tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry! Is that what you want? Me to apologize?"

"No. I want you to let me go." She said, pushing away from him. "Here's the deal. I'll stay. I'll hunt, do research, play along with all the lies and shit, but you and me, we're done."

"It's just temporary right? Like all the other times?"

"I don't know. That's up to you. Sam, c'mon. I'm going to the car." She told him, looking at Sam. The rest of the walk to the Mustang was in silence. So was the drive to the police station to pick up the Impala.

* * *

_Remember Shadow and Hell House are up next. And I think another Observation is in order. Yes? No? Let me know. --B.E_


	20. Shadow

**Okay guys, so I'm sorry about the delay for these two chapters. But they're here and I'm moving onto the next ones. Before I go any further, I owe WinchestersGirl a HUGE thanks for both Shadow and Hell House, she helped me and here we are! I'm telling you, I have every other episode written out but these two were giving me problems. I think it was because of the way I left the Benders. But no biggie, these are supposed to be episodes and not every problem moves through all the episodes. And have I mentioned yet that I'm beginning to hate the first season? I don't know about you guys, but I this close to winging my DVDs out the window...and then I'll run and get them before too much rain gets on them. So, let the countdown to season two of K&Q begin! All I have left is Something Wicked, Provenance, Dead Man's Blood, Salvation and then Devil's Trap. Thank God! And remember, if you have anything for any of those episodes, just pop them over to me. I mean, WinchestersGirl and Supernatural Sweetie aren't just the only two I get ideas from. Ok, so I'm shutting up now and onto Shadow and Hell House. Keep reading and reviewing--B.E**

**

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****Shadow  
****A Little History Lesson**

"Wait for it. Wait for it. Wait for the signal." Tate muttered to herself, bouncing on the balls of her feet and flicking her lighter open and then closed, then open again. It was another nervous habit she had picked up from her father, along with the bouncing and cracking her knuckles.

"Wait for it. Wait. They know what they're doing." She muttered again. Sam and Dean had been in that warehouse for almost fifteen minutes and there had been no signal; one of them was supposed to call her cell phone, let it ring once and then hang up. And there had been no call. No nothing. "Five more minutes."

Tate made it to three. Grabbing a gun from the trunk, she made sure it was loaded before she 'stormed' the building. Slinking up to the top floor, just like the boys had told her, she peaked through the elevator grate and looked into the room. Both Sam and Dean were tied to wooden posts in the back of the room. Lovely. Over where Dean sitting, arms tied behind him, was that blonde―what was her name again?--that Sam had bumped into at the bar the other night. She was kneeling in front of him, a smirk on her face, and talking to him about something. It looked like Tate had come in right in the middle of a conversation.

"You. He lets his guard down around his boys, lets his emotions cloud his judgment. I happen to know he _is_ in town. And he'll come and try to save you. And then the Daevas will kill everybody...nice and slow and messy. Everybody: you, Sammy, your dad and your pretty little girlfriend with the purple eyes." She taunted as Tate's fingers curled around the end of her gun; she didn't like to be threatened when she wasn't even in the room.

"Well, I've got news for ya. It's gonna take a lot more than some…._shadow_ to kill him. And Tate, she's not even here."

"Oh, the Daevas are in the room here...they're invisible. Their shadows are just the only part you can see. And believe me sugar, it doesn't matter if she's here or not. They'll get her too."

"Why you doin' this, Meg? What kind of deal you got worked out here, huh? And with who?" Sam called out, looking toward the blonde.

"I'm doing this for the same reasons you do what you do...loyalty. Love. Like the love you had for Mommy...and Jess." She purred.

"Go to hell." Sam growled, looking away from her. As he turned to look away from her, he just happened to catch a glimmer of movement. There was something was over in...Tate. Bringing her finger up to her lips, Tate told Sam to keep quiet and carefully slid out of her hiding spot. Blending in with the shadows was easy, all she had to do was keep quite.

"Baby, I'm already there." Meg said, making her way over to Sam. The blonde actually passed right by Tate, not even seeing her in her new hiding spot. Tate felt her lip curl as Meg dropped down onto Sam's lap. "Come on, Sam. There's no need to be nasty." She cooed, leaning in closer to his ear. "I think we both know how you really feel about me. You know, I saw you watching me...changing in my apartment. Turned you on, didn't it?"

"Get a room, you two." Dean groaned.

"I didn't mind. I liked that you were watching me. Come on, Sammy. You and I can still have a little dirty fun." Meg hissed, kissing Sam's neck.

"Gross." Tate whispered and she swore for a second Meg's eyes flicked over towards her. Just for a second though.

"You wanna have fun? Go ahead then. I'm a little tied up right now." Sam said, twisting away from her, well moving as far as the ropes would allow him to.

"You don't want to play with me? Fine. I'm sure your brother does." She whimpered, as she stood back up and slid over to Dean. Straddling his hips, Meg mirrored her previous position and latched onto Dean's throat. "What's the matter Dean? Your girlfriend doesn't give you enough attention? Are you two not speaking? What happened? Hit a rough patch?"

"Bitch, you have no idea how much attention she gives me."

"Obviously not enough, seeing as you're so happy to see me." Rolling her eyes, Tate pulled the safety off her gun and stepped out of the shadows, each footstep was planned out and silent; just like her father taught her. Creeping up behind Meg, she placed the muzzle of the gun right between her shoulder blades and winked a Dean.

"Honey, I put up with girls like you all the time. And believe me, he's not happy to see you, it's just because I'm here." The blonde's head whipped around at the sound of Tate's voice and shot up to her feet; the gun now on her chest.

"Interesting. Very, very interesting."

"What?"

"A Wycker walking right into a fight with a Daeva. You haven't read up on your history have you?" Meg taunted, circling around her, and when Tate didn't answer, she just continued. "Alana and Nero haven't explained to you why their numbers are so small have they? Guess not. A long time ago, when there were more than enough Wyckers running around freezing time, healing people or screwing with the weather, the Daevas were first summoned. And of course the frightened people prayed to their Defenders; the bastard love child of a Guardian Angel and one of the three Fates, who were born with Mage powers. That would the definition of a Wycker, sweetheart. Do you know how many Wyckers were killed? Do you? Alana never told you that part did she? Nope. She was one of the lucky ones who survived. Why do you think there are only..."

Before Meg could even finish her sentence, a shot rang out. Tate had pulled the trigger. She knew what she was doing, she wasn't planning on doing any major damage, like killing her, all she wanted was to shut her up. The bullet grazed her shoulder, leaving a deep flesh wound. Blood seeped out through the slice in her yellow leather jacket and her other hand scrambled to cover it, to put pressure on it.

"It would've been easier if you just shut up." Tate hissed, as Meg doubled over in pain. Tucking the gun into the waist band of her jeans, she moved past the blonde of the floor and over toward the boys. Sam was already on his feet, pulling the rope from his one of his wrists when Tate knelt down behind Dean, her pocket knife in hand.

"Sam! Get the altar." Dean yelled, as Tate sliced through the ropes. Nodding, Sam crossed the room and flipped the alter over. On the walls, Tate could see the shadows of the Daevas as the came down to the floor and grabbed Meg by the ankles. Dragging her across the floor, they pulled her to the other side of the room and threw her through the large window. Her knees cracked as she stood up, reaching out for Dean's hand and helped pull him to his feet. Raking a hand through her hair, Tate followed Sam over to the window and looked down at the concrete bellow. Meg's body laid down there, obviously very broken from her fall.

"So, I guess the Daevas didn't like being bossed around." Sam said with a shrug.

"Yeah, I guess not. Hey, Sam?" Dean asked, coming up behind his brother.

"Hm?"

"Next time you wanna get laid, find a girl that's not so buckets-o'-crazy, huh?" He said with a smile and then walked away from the window. leaving Sam and Tate standing there. Rolling her eyes, Tate looked back down at Meg one more time.

"I should've thought of that sooner."

"Thought of what?" Sam asked, looking at her.

"Tossing Cassie out a window. It would've saved me a lot of time and my throat wouldn't have been raw from all the screaming I did."

"You have problems."

"Yeah, I know. C'mon, Dean's gone." Together, her and Sam walked out of the building and down to the Impala where Dean was waiting. Once the engine came to life and Tate was sitting comfortably in the backseat, with her legs stretched out in front of her, she looked up and caught Dean's eyes in the rear view mirror.

"Next time you two asshats are in trouble, I'm leaving you there, taking the Impala and moving to Vegas."


	21. Hell House

**Hell House  
****All Hail the Queen**

"What the hell are we doing here? Are you going to torment those two dorks some more?" Tate asked as she stood between Dean's knees. Her, Dean and Sam were leaning against one of the several picnic tables that were littered around the small trailer park. Tate stood there, facing Dean with her hands planted firmly on the damp wooden table top and cocked an eye brow at him. Why were they still dealing with these two?

"Just wait. It gets better."

"It better. I have things to do."

"Like?"

"Take a shower, paint my nails, go over the new rolls of film I developed. Important stuff."

"I can help you with the shower." He said with a smirk. Balling her first, she slammed her hand on top of his and laughed when he winced. "Bitch."

"Yeah well, that's what you get."

"Guys, shut up. They're coming." Sam said, nodding toward the small clearing Ed and Harry were walking through, coming right towards them.

"Gentlemen. And our fair lady." Ed said, as he shifted his stuffed full brown paper bag to his other arm and used his free hand to grab Tate's, kissing the back of it. Tate laughed, at Ed and when she saw Dean's jaw clench.

"Hey, guys." Sam called out as they pushed off the table and followed the other two.

"Should we tell 'em?" Harry asked, looking over to Ed.

"Oh, you might as well, you know they're just gonna read about it in the trades." Ed said over his shoulder, winking at Tate. She couldn't help it, she started to laugh both at Ed and the glare from Hell Dean was giving him.

"Knock it off. He's only playing and besides, I think it's funny." She hissed into his ear as she came up alongside him and slid her arm through his.

"Kissing your hand isn't funny." She didn't even bother answering him, it was too easy. All she did was just roll her eyes.

"So, this morning, we got a phone call from a very important Hollywood producer." Harry said, oblivious to Tate and Dean's hushed conversation.

"Oh, yeah? Wrong number?"

"Dean!" Both her and Sam hissed.

"No, smartass. He read all about the Hell House on our website and wants to option the motion picture rights...maybe even have us write it." Ed said, as him and Harry dumped their grocery bags into the front seat of their car. Hooked up onto the back was their trailer, apparently this producer was for real.

"And create the RPG." Harry said, leaning against his door.

"The what?"

"It stands for Role-playing game." Tate said, rolling her eyes. Both Ed and Harry's eyes went wide. They were standing before a hot, attractive kick ass girl who knew what an RPG was. She was the perfect woman. Tough, smart and knew her video games.

"How do you know that?" Ed asked in awe.

"I went to college, I have dorky friends. And besides, I have played video games before."

"I think I just died and went to heaven." Harry mused as Dean's fist clenched and unclenched at his side.

"Knock it off Dean."

"Fine."

"So anyways, that just a little lingo for ya. Any-who, uh, excuse us, we're off to La-La Land." Ed told them with a smile as they opened their car doors.

"Well, congratulations, guys, that sounds really great." Sam said, trying to hold back a smile.

"Yeah, that's awesome. Best of luck to ya." Dean said, wrapping an arm around Tate's shoulders. Jealousy was an interesting thing to deal with, especially in a Winchester.

"Oh, yeah, luck...it's got nothin' to do with it. It's about talent, you know? Sheer, unabashed, talent." Ed said with a shrug, flipping the three of them a peace sign, before slipping into the car. "Later." Before they drove away, Tate pulled away from Dean and walked over to Ed's opened window.

"Can I help you, milady?" He asked, looking up at her.

"Nope. Just wanted to wish you guys luck." She said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek; then she went over and did the same to Harry. Coming back to Ed's side, where he was still holding his face, his hand right where she had kissed him, he looked up at her and smiled.

"Do...did...did we tell you...that we...umh...went back and...created this character...a umh...leading lady?" Ed stammered, falling over his words as she stared down at him.

"No, you didn't. Who is she?"

"She kicks ass. And she's hot too."

"Think Lara Croft who hunts ghost." Harry piped up, gazing up at her almost star struck. "And this morning, after the producer called, this actress called. She said her agent already heard about the role and that she wanted it."

"Oh did she? Wow. That's great guys. What's her name? Maybe I've heard of her."

"Elizabeth Scarlet...sounded really hot." Ed muttered, smiling up at her.

"I'm sure she did guys. So, good luck. Have a safe trip and all that." Tate said, crossing her arms over her chest. She was about to back away when Ed's hand came up and circled around her chin, his finger running across her jaw line.

"If you're ever out in Hollywood, look us up. 'Kay kid?" And he winked. That was the second time he winked at her. Nodding, because if she opened her mouth she was going to laugh hysterically at them, Tate waved goodbye and then made her way over to Sam and Dean, shaking her head.

"What was that all about?" Dean asked, arms folded over his chest.

"Nothing. They were just telling me about some really hot girl who called, asking to star in their movie."

"And this hot girl wouldn't have anything to do with that secret phone call you made this morning, now would it?"

"Nope." She said with a small grin as she walked over to the Impala's back door. Leaning her arms on the roof, the three of them watched as Ed and Harry drove out of the trailer park and then looked back at each other; Sam spoke up first.

"Well, I have a confession to make." He said.

"What's that?"

"I was the one who called them and told 'em I was a producer."

"Well, I'm the one who put the dead fish in their backseat."

"Dean, that's nasty." Tate said, her noses scrunching up.

"So...truce?" Sam asked, before getting in the car.

"Yeah, truce. At least for the next hundred miles." Dean told him, sliding into the front seat. "What about you back there, Miss Up and Coming New Starlet?" He asked, looking over his seat.

"I was never in this to begin with, but I'd be careful about which shampoo you guys use."

* * *

_Hmm, so was it Tate who called Ed and Harry? I mean, her middle name is Elizabeth and she calls her Mustang 'Scarlet' . Who knows? Haha...anways, Something Wicked is up next. Hang tight guys. --B.E_


	22. Something Wicked

**Okay guys! Here's Something Wicked! Done. Got it! Good! So, I have Provenance, it should be posted either later on today or sometime tomorrow. I'm just re-reading it right now and editing, making sure I didn't miss anything. So, if anyone has anything for Dead Man's Blood, which comes after Provenance, let me know and just pop it over. Haha. So, keep reading and reviewing guys!--B.E**

**Something Wicked  
It's an Oldest Thing**

"So, umh…are Sam and Dean brothers?"

Looking down at Michael, Tate cocked an eye brow at him and bit back a grin. The night before the kid had thought they were boyfriends or whatever everyone usually thought before giving Tate that weird look, but now, he was asking her that. Huh, what had made him change his mind? Pulling open the door, she let Michael walk in ahead of her and trailed behind him. Noise erupted all over the place; kids squealing, parents groaning and annoyed and workers this close to spitting in peoples food. God, she hated McDonalds.

"Yeah they are. How'd you figure that out? Weren't you making jokes about them the other day?"

"Yeah, but the way Dean keeps talking about beginning a big brother…I kinda put two and two together. So they are brothers right?"

"Yep. Here…" She said, pressing a twenty dollar bill into his hand. "…order whatever you want. Just get me a drink and some fries."

Grabbing a newspaper off the counter top, she walked into the back of the 'dining room' and slid into a booth. After reading her horoscope and some of the comics, Michael slid into the seat across from her and handed her the change.

"Thanks Tate."

"Not a problem Kid." She said with a smile, jamming the change into her pocket. When Dean had taken Joanna to the hospital to see Asher again earlier that morning and Sam had gone back to the library to do some more research on the shtriga, Tate had agreed to keep an eye on Michael until Joanna came home later that night; she had done it the day before too. And besides, she wanted to keep the kid's mind off of what was going to happen later on; being bait for a hunt was never a fun thing to think about. Watching him as he took a bite of the cheeseburger he had bought himself, she shook her head and went back to reading the paper. Kids were still something that bugged her; how could he eat that? It was gross.

"What about you?" He asked around a mouth of food.

"What about me?" Tate asked, sounding distracted, reading an article on why gas prices kept going up.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" She couldn't stop the cough that burst through her lips; she nearly choked on her soda. Taking a deep breath, she cleared her throat and glanced back over to Michael; who was waiting for her answer.

"Why? I mean, why do you want to know?"

"Just curious I guess. Or are you an only child?"

"I'm kinda both, I guess."

"What do you mean, you guess?" Sighing, Tate raked a hand through her hair and squared her shoulders; was she really going to tell a kid—just some bratty kid—all about her brother? Did he honestly need to know? Really, why the hell did this kid need to know? She was never going to see him again, but she knew what it was like to be the oldest child, even if it was just by a few minutes.

"I mean I had a brother, he was twin, but he died when we were eighteen."

"Oh. Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you."

"It's okay kid. You asked, I answered. No big deal." Michael nodded and went back to picking at his food. _Way to go Tate, you killed the kid's appetite_, she thought as she rolled her eyes.

"So umh…were you older than him?"

"Yep, by like five minutes. And I used to tease him about it all the time. He was such a pain in the ass; just imagine a guy like Dean who liked motorcycles instead of classic cars."

"Sounds like he was pretty cool."

"He was. Garrett was the best brother anyone could ask for."

"And you guys were twins…"

"Yeah. We knew everything about each other, we could finish each others sentences, and we liked the same things. It was pretty crazy, we listened to the same music, liked the same foods, and everywhere we went, we always had the same friends; outside of Sam and Dean."

"Can I ask you…?"

"How he died?"

"Yeah…you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."

"No. It's okay. It's been a while since I talked to anyone about him."

"So what happened?" Taking a deep breath, she pushed her hair away again and looked over to him. Why did he need to know? Why was she even talking about this? God, when was the last time she had mentioned her brother in 'polite conversation'? She couldn't remember.

"We were eighteen and coming back from a hunt; a badass ghost of an old civil war solider or something like that. He had been haunting his great-great-a lot of greats-granddaughter; he killed her husband. Her husband was actually related to the man who killed him in battle. Long story short, we were on our way home, driving across this little bridge and the car flipped over the railing."

"Holy…"

"Yeah."

"How'd…how'd you guys flip?"

"Guess the ghost wasn't as gone as we thought it was. Sent our car flying, right into the river. Next thing I know, I was shooting the back window out and swimming up with Sam. I thought Dean and Garrett were right behind us. Sam and Dean got onto the shore before I did, I had gone back down, but couldn't find Rett. I figured he was already out. I come up and there's no twin brother waiting for me."

"What happened?"

"He drowned. I never knew that part. Sam only told me about a year ago."

"Wow…" Michael said, cleaning up the mess he had made with his lunch and put the wrappers on the tray, getting ready to throw everything out.

"Yeah. I always thought it was my fault, it had been my hunt and I had screwed up. I never knew he drowned. My dad always said it was an accident, I blamed Dean and ran away."

"You ran away?"

"Yep. Moved to Boston for eight years. Became a reporter, had a real normal life and all that crap. It was good. It was safe."

"But what happened?"

"It was boring kid. And being there wasn't going to make my brother come back." Nodding, Michael took the last sip of his soda before hitting the ice at the bottom.

"So, you would've done anything to get your brother back?" Tate choked again. Sure, there were ways she could get Garrett back, but she wasn't willing to do that. She wasn't willing to spilt her soul to have him back. And he had been gone for a long time, she was moved on almost all the way by now.

"No. I've accepted it kiddo." She said, and then it all happened to click in her head. This conversation wasn't about Garrett anymore, it was about Asher. "Hey! Hey, listen to me. Asher isn't going anywhere. We'll figure out what's wrong with him. We'll kill that…that…monster and Asher will be fine. You don't have to accept that your brother is going to die, like I did. Okay? Do you understand me?"

"Yeah, I do. But it…it was my job…my job to protect him and I didn't…" Reaching across the table, she grabbed him by the chin and made him look up at her.

"I know that feeling, it's an oldest thing. I get it, it's guilt too. But he'll be fine. Everything will be fine. I promise you. You're a good older brother, it'll be fine."


	23. Provenance

**Hi guys! Ok...so I've been playing with idea since I first saw this episode. We all got to see Sam's nice and normal date with Sarah, so obviously he left Tate and Dean back at the hotel because if he hadn't, all hell would've broken loose. So what exactly did happen at the hotel while Sammy was out? Scroll down and find out. haha. And the thing Sam says at the end, soooo inspired by my best friend when I start acting crazy. haha So, keep reading and review. Remember, Dead Man's Blood is next! --B.E**

**----**

**Provenance  
****Date Night**

"Where's Sam?" Tate asked, coming out of the bathroom with a towel in hand and glanced around the room. Sam wasn't there and she didn't remember him saying something about going out. Well, he could've and she just wasn't paying a damn bit of attention; that wasn't unusual. "Dean, did you hear me?"

"Yes, I heard you, your highness. He went out with Sarah." He groaned, not even bothering to look up at her. He was apparently too busy being anal about his guns and making sure the knives were all sharp enough. Idiot. Rolling her eyes, she went back to towel drying her hair and dropped down on the empty bed. Her glasses were perched low on her nose, the lenses were still fogged up from her shower, and she had changed into her pajamas; a pair of shorts that had seen better days and a faded AC/DC tank top. Shaking her head out, her damp hair fell down around her in face in messy damp tangles that needed to be brushed out.

"So, where'd he take her?" She asked, putting the towel down next to her and grabbed her nail polish, the bottle of acetone and her little box of Q-tips. "Dean?" No answer, it was as if that damn hunting knife was more important than her. "Dean?" Rolling her eyes, she grabbed the towel and balled it up. If he wasn't going to pay attention, she'd make him. "Dean!" Last chance.

"Tatum!" Dean growled a second later when the towel landed in his lap.

"I asked you a question and you didn't answer me."

"Fine. What did you ask?"

"Where'd Sam take her?"

"Dunno." He said with a shrug as he put the knife away and traded it for one of the rifles, reloading it. Shaking her head, she popped her headphones into her ears and turned her iPod back on, before pouring out of some of the acetone and started to paint her nails. She had finished painting the nail on her ring finger black and cringed as some of the polish seeped into a long shallow cut she had on the side of her finger, when she felt something bounce off of her bare leg. Looking down at the carpet, she found an empty bullet shell gleaming up at her.

"What the hell was that for?" Tate snapped, glaring at Dean.

"Can you do that somewhere else? That shit smells."

"Dean…die."

"Tate, c'mon it stinks."

"Oh yeah and that shit you're using to clean the guns smells like strawberries. No, I'm not moving."

"Tate…" He whined, putting his grime covered rag down and looked at her with almost puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. Gimmie the keys."

"For what?"

"I'll go finish them somewhere else."

"So why do you need the keys?" Smirking, she shook her head and tried not to laugh. Sometimes he was so slow on the uptake.

"I'll go finish them out in the Impala."

"Hell no."

"Then stop bitching." Hearing him mumbled a few 'lovely phrases' under his breath, Tate smiled and went back to what she had been doing. She had gotten the first coat down when she sat back and popped her shoulders. Looking around her—well at the moment it was hers—bed, she noticed something was missing and cocked an eye brow.

"Dean?"

"What?" He snapped.

"Don't be bitchy. Where'd my pretzels go?"

"What pretzels?"

"The ones I bought before Sam left, ya know when we spent twenty dollars in junk food at that little grocery store." She said, nodding toward the entire chip, snack and soda aisle Dean had laid out behind him.

"I don't know."

"Yes you do."

"Why would I know?"

"Because you eat everything!"

"I didn't steal your damn pretzels. And that shit still reeks."

"I don't believe you. And so do you." Tate smirked, and then laughed when her words finally sunk in.

"Tate…"

"If you quit bothering me, I'll get done faster." She sing-songed and went back to her nails. "And if you go get me more pretzels, I'll finish twice as fast."

A few minutes later, over the tops of her glasses, she watched Dean put down the gun he had been working on and stood up, walked over to the dresser and grabbed the car keys. The door slammed behind him, rattling the plate glass window as he stomped toward the Impala. Leaning back, she shook her head and examined her finger tips.

"Works every time." She mumbled, cleaning up the mess she had made.

----

Sam smiled to himself as he pulled his room keys out of his pocket, all business reasons aside, he had a good date with Sarah. She was smart, funny, beautiful, actually enjoyed art for art's sake not because she was pretending to sound like something she wasn't and she was just fun to be around. He hadn't felt that way in a long time. Putting the key in the lock, he turned the knob and cocked an eye brow. What the hell was that noise? It sounded like someone had fallen off of a bed.

Oh God….

What was he walking into? He had left them alone for most of the night. What a bad idea that was, now thinking back on it. He should've called before he left Sarah's apartment, gave them a heads up and time to look…

"When the hell have they ever done that?" He mumbled, screwing his eyes closed tight, took a deep breath and prayed that at least Tate had a shirt on. He didn't need that. The smell of silver polish and acetone washed over him the minute he stepped into the room; God what had they been up to? He didn't want to know, he kept his eyes closed, but that didn't save his ears.

"Give it to me!"

"No!"

"Tate, you're hurting me!"

"You're pulling my hair!"

"Tate! Move your knee!"

"Move your hand!"

"Gimmie it!"

"You're not getting it! Ouch! That fucking hurt!"

"I can't breath, you're on my ribs!"

"Too bad!"

"Tatum!"

"Dean!"

"Tate! You're hurting me!"

"I should do it harder, you deserve it! Stop pulling my hair!"

"Move your knee then!"

"No! Stop reaching for it, you're not getting it!"

"Tatum! Move your fucking knee!"

"No! You deserve it!"

"What the hell are you two doing?!" Sam yelled, one hand covering his eyes.

"Sam?" They said at the same time, looking up at him.

Slowly, he parted his fingers and saw the funniest thing he had ever walked in on. They both were sprawled out on the floor—_that explains the noise I heard, _he thought—but it wasn't how he had expected to find them. Tate was perched on top of Dean, one knee pressed into his ribs, right above his diaphragm and the other was pinning his forearm to the ground. Dean had a handful of her hair clutched between his fingers and was trying to reach for whatever Tate had in her free hand, her right was flattened out on his forehead, keeping his head down. It honestly looked they had been wrestling.

"When did you get back….ouch! You asshole!" Tate shrieked. Dean had caught her off guard and rolled onto his side, knocking her onto the floor and grabbed what she had been holding. Was that the remote?

"Ha! I got it…oof! Son of a bitch!" Dean growled, as Tate's barefoot connected with his ribs.

"That's what you get for knocking me off."

"I couldn't breath."

"Well, you deserved it. Fuckin' animal. And I think I'm missing hair on the right side of my head." She muttered as she got to her feet and padded toward Sam; not before kicking the remote out of his hand and stepping on his fingers. "Ass."

"That hurt."

"Good."

"Umh…guys?" They both looked at him again and at the same time, cocked an eye brow. "That's scary. So…you guys never answered my question. What the hell were you doing?"

"Tate took the remote from me, I wanted to watch T.V."

"No he wanted to watch girl on girl porn and I said no and then took the remote away. If you're going to tell the story, at least tell it right." Dean shrugged.

"Like I said, I wanted to watch T.V and she took the remote."

"For a good reason! I don't need to watch to girls going at it. Please, I watch you and Sam bitch back and forth everyday, I don't need to pay for it too."

"Did you just call me a girl?" Dean asked, glaring at her.

"If the skirt fits, puss."

Sam rolled his eyes, tossed his coat onto his bed and grabbed his pajamas. Locking the bathroom door behind him, he tried to tune out their bickering as best he could but it wouldn't go away all the way. Rolling his eyes, he changed out of his jeans and nice shirt and into his sweats and the ratty gray t-shirt he brought with him from Stanford. After brushing his teeth, he walked back out into the bedroom and over to his bed.

"So how was your date with Sarah?" Tate asked, brushing the tangles out of her hair.

"I'll tell you in the morning, I'm too tired."

"That good huh? Ouch!"

"Stop being an asshole, Dean."

"Stop being an asshole, Tate." Dean mimicked.

"See, this…this is why I'm exhausted. You two are exhausting." Sam muttered, pulling the covers off of his bed. He was about to lay down when he was hit with a wave of acetone. God that shit was strong and it was coming from…from his bed. "Son of a….who spilt acetone on my bed?"

"It's Tate's nail polish remover!"

"I didn't do it Sam, Dean spilt it when he tackled me for the remote, that was how we wound up on the floor."

"I didn't tackle you! You are such a liar! Fuck! That hurt!"

"You deserved that, you called me a liar."

Sam took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He should've stayed at Sarah's. At least he'd be doing something other than listening to Tate and Dean kill each other. Tipping his head up, he glared at the ceiling.

"Why me?"


	24. Dead Man's Blood

**Dead Man's Blood**

**Lips of an Angel**

Her head swam as she came to, her vision cleared and the throbbing at the base of her neck slammed into her full force. God that hurt. Slowly everything came back to and the scents of spilled blood, dust and dried hay attacked her nose; she was in the vampires nest. Her head fell forward for a second, her chin hitting her chest and then she snapped it back up. Okay, that wasn't fun. Blinking a few times, the darkness separated and everything came into focus.

"Welcome back sweetheart." Looking up at the man hovering in front of her, Tate blinked again and winced, okay moving hurt. It took her a second, but then it finally set it. She was tied to one of the posts that supported the loft above her, her arms bound behind her, legs crossed and tied at the ankle. And she could tell the switch blade that she normally kept in her back pocket was long gone. Lovely.

"Didn't you hear what I…"

"I heard you. But you wanna keep it down? My head is killin' me babe." She growled, looking at the vampire in front of her. He was the leader, the head of their little coven. And he wasn't that bad to look at with his shoulder length dark hair, tight jeans, tight vintage t-shirt and cowboy boots.

"Killin' ya? Hun, I can make all that pain go away." Snorting, she tilted her head to the side and bared her throat.

"Go for it, see what happens. I bet your life that you won't be able to get what you want from me." She sneered.

"Oh yeah, and why's that darling?" He asked, his lips hovering just above her jugular.

"Why don't you just try and figure it out for yourself." He pulled back a little and looked her in the eye. He was really good looking. "I'm sure you already know my name, but I'd like to know the name of the man who wants to try and eat me." He laughed at her.

"Luther, and you're right, I do already know you Tatum."

"Luther. Cute. So umh…buffet's open sweetcheeks. Wanna get this over with? I'm needed out there, rumor has it my friends have your girlfriend and I really wanna see the look on her face when she realizes we have more Dead Man's Blood than you guys thought." That one earned her a slap across the mouth.

"Dead Man's Blood?"

"Right sweetcheeks. Do you think they're stupid enough to go after her unarmed?" Another smack and then this time, Luther grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back.

Okay, so that hurt more than moving. He didn't just hover this time, this time he connected. The lips on her neck felt like someone had stuck a vacuum's hose attachment to her throat. At first it felt like she was getting a shot and then the pain got worse, her whole left side felt like it was on fire. Feeling her head spin, she saw the darkness creep in on the corners of her vision and then her eyes rolled back in her head. And then, it all just stopped. Her eyes slid back into place and the world around her came back. She could hear again, and on her left, she could hear Luther choking on something. Looking up with blurry tear filled eyes, Tate watched as he reeled back, hands clasped to his throat and coughed harder, as if he was trying to drag something up from his stomach. Laughing hoarsely, she started wriggling her arms free and just when she finally had one hand out; Luther turned and glared at her.

"What….what the hell was that?" He snarled his voice rough and scratchy. Smirking, she untied her left hand and rolled her eyes at him; for someone who had been around for a long time he sure as hell didn't read up on his urban myths and mystical creatures.

"Don't you know what a Wycker is?"

"A Wycker?" His eyes went wide for a second.

"Yeah, the bastard child of a Fate and Guardian Angel. Wyckers come equipped with the blood of an angel, sweetcheeks. You need to read more; it'll save your life in the long run." Twisting her neck, she cried out and bit down on her lip, that little shit really hurt. "Do you do this to all your girlfriends or just people you pick up?"

"No, just for Hunters."

"Good. You did what you wanted to do; can you take me back now? Remember the girlfriend and the Dead Man's Blood?" She snapped. Luther moved so fast Tate only caught the dark blur his hair had become. He tugged her roughly to her feet, not caring that her legs weren't untied and her boots dragged behind them lamely. "Hey! How about untying my feet!"

"You can get yourself out, like you did with your hands." He growled, pinching her elbow and pulled her so she was right next to him.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To make a trade, if your friends want you alive, they'll give me Kate."

Oh God. An angry vampire who was also a possessive boyfriend, what were the odds?

* * *

_Almost done!!! Salvation and Devil's Trap are next! Remember, just send any suggestions! --B.E_


	25. Salvation

**Hiya guys! First off… no, I am not dead and there is no need to repeat it or tell it to me again in a review. I've been way too busy over this past month, I figured I'd have a nice and smooth vacation, only to find out two days into it that I had been 'withdrawn' from college. AKA, a nice word for kicked out on my ass. So after appealing it, I only found out two days ago that I could come back with half my schedule. And I only decided sometime this afternoon that I might as well go back. So in between fighting with school, the holidays and my family, some stories got forgotten. Like this. I can't say all because I know some of you guys follow my stories into different categories and will say 'Umh…no Sam, you've been updating some stuff' Like I said, telling me or thinking that I was dead, is not needed. So no dead reviews, kay? Awesome! **

**Other news, this is Salvation. Praise the gods, right? One more. I got an email asking me two questions. 1-Why don't I pick out the 'exciting' parts of the episodes and drop Tate in right then and there. Well, sometimes I do. But most of the time, I go back and watch the episodes and pick out the best moments for her, like some really good ones with any of the guys or other characters, she'll creep in on. I know I did that in 'Heart'—when and if I ever post it—haha. 2-Why don't I just do an entire episode and let Tate have a field day with it? Believe me, that's coming. You just gotta sit tight. **

**Anyways, this chapter there is one of my favorite things in it. A John and Tate moment. I love John and Tate. It's so fun. Haha. So, I hope you guys like this. Keep reading and reviewing!—B.E ****

* * *

****Salvation  
Daddy's Girl**

Glaring out her windshield, through the brand new coating of spritz on the glass, Tate watched the two cars in front of her pull off to the side of the road. Sighing, she flicked on her blinker and followed. No, a cherry red '69 Mustang, '67 Impala and a huge almost monster truck weren't going to attract attention sitting in a pit stop of a pull off. No, of course not. Throwing her car into park, Tate waited until John got out of the truck before wrapping her fingers around the door handle. She knew the rules. Sliding out a minute later, she walked up to where Sam and Dean were standing near the Impala and all eyes fell on John. His door slammed and then his fist flew into the bed of the truck.

"John?" Tate asked, looking over at him.

"Damn it!" He shouted, hitting the car again.

"What is it?" Dean asked, looking over at his father. Tate burrowed herself deeper into her jacket, it was cold and wet out and she really didn't even want to stop in the first place. But if she had driven right on through, there would've been hell to pay.

"Son of a bitch!"

"What is it?"

"I just got a call from Caleb…"

"Is he okay? Is my dad still with him? John, where's my dad?" Tate asked, getting somewhat excited. It wasn't often that anyone heard from Caleb or her father. Phone calls were always few and far between.

"He's fine. Jim Murphy is dead." John said sadly. Turning on her heel, she paced back to the Mustang and kicked the front tire. Damn it! Jim was one of the few men she had trusted, lived with and loved like a father. He was dead. Pastor Jim was dead.

"Pastor Jim? How?" Sam asked, looking over at John with a worried look. If Jim was dead, who knew what else was coming down the pike.

"Throat was slashed…he bled out." A stunned silence washed over the three younger hunters. How could this have happened? "Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place."

"The demon?" John only nodded back at Dean. "_The _demon?"

"I don't know. Could be he just got careless, he slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're gettin' close."

"What are we supposed to do? Just sit back and let the fuckin' thing kill everyone we know and wait for it to get us?" Tate snapped, looking at John with rage in her purple eyes. "Wait for him to catch up with us? No. We have to do something."

"We will kiddo, we will." John said softly, staring right at her. "Now we act like every second counts. There are two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, we cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's gonna be six months old in the next week." Tate snorted. "Is there a problem?"

"Yeah there is. I'm not going to look for a bunch of kids. I need to know that my father is all right. You three can find kids; I'm going to find my dad."

"Tatum!" John yelled, but she didn't say anything, just walked to her car door. Sam and Dean looked at each other and sighed. If people thought Sam and John fought till someone left for a different side of the country, no one had ever seen him and Tate have it out.

"Dad…" Sam began, changing the subject and bringing John's attention back to the matter at hand. "…that could be dozens of kids. How the hell are we gonna know which one's the right one?"

"We'll check 'em all, that's how. You got any better ideas?"

"No, sir." Sam said before getting in the car. Over against her Mustang, Tate just stood there, arms folded over her chest and legs crossed at the ankle. She'd wait for them to leave and then head out on her own. As much as she fought with her father, someone needed to protect him. John had paused too, looking not at her but through her.

"Dad?"

"Yeah….it's Jim. You know, I can't….And Tate has a point; we can't just wait…This ends. Now. I'm ending it. I don't care what it takes." He said, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You two start on those hospitals, I want to talk to Tate for a minute." Dean just looked at his father for a moment before nodding and getting in. A beat later, the Impala roared to life and swerved around John's truck before sliding out onto the main road again. Looking up at him, the familiar look in her eyes, Tate watched as John came over and stood next to her, a hand on her elbow.

"You should go with them, I'm leaving." She said finally.

"No you're not."

"John, you're not my father. You can't tell me what to do." Tate snarled, but kept her eyes locked on the ground.

"You can't go because you have no idea where you're father is." Her head snapped up, he had called her bluff. "And neither do I. I haven't heard from him in three weeks, Caleb said he got up one morning and he was gone."

"Sounds like dad. You know, we haven't talked to each other in months. At least a few days before Dean called me to come out here with you guys."

"So why are you so gun-ho to go find him, Sparky?" Growling at the nickname, Tate kicked at a few loose stones beneath her feet and finally locked eyes with him.

"If something does happen to him, I'm all alone. And don't say you and the boys are here, because it doesn't count. I have no idea whatever happened to my mother, Garrett's been dead for a long time and then if dad dies, it's just me. No matter what happens, the boys always have each other. Me, I'll be alone." John just looked down at her before wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"You'll never be alone. Got that?" She nodded. "Good. Now, help me find some of those babies and then after that, you can go find Ben. Deal?"

"Deal, I guess."

"Good." John muttered against her hair, leaving a somewhat of a kiss, before pulling away and heading toward his truck. Rolling her eyes, Tate slipped into the Mustang and reached over, toying with the radio. A second later, before her tires started to spit up gravel, Aerosmith blasted out of the speakers. She had things to get done and knowing Sam and Dean, she'd probably be playing on the clean up crew.

* * *

_SO! Devil's Trap is next. And I kinda set it up that Tate might not be there. If I change my mind, she went, looked for Ben and found nothing, so she came back. So, I need help! Tate in DT, or not? And if she's there, in the Impala when it go CRUNCH or no? Let me know! B.E_


	26. Devil's Trap

**OH MY GOD!!!! It's done! It's finally done! Holy shit Batman, Season One is done and in the can! –Happy Dance here-haha. SO! With Season one FINALLY done, we're going to season two. And oh the things to see there. Ha. Anyways, onto this lovely lil' chappie. It's short, I know. But I kinda wanted it that way. I figured if there was a Tate or Tate like presence in Season One/Devil's Trap and she wasn't there, this lil moment with her would be short. I mean, this episode really isn't about anyone expect the Winchesters after awhile, especially at the end. So, short yes, BUT it's done! YAY! **

**I'm very happy incase you all haven't noticed. Haha. I'm so excited to start Season Two. Expect to see**_** In my Time of **_**Dying up soon. Go me! **

* * *

**Devil's Trap  
****No Service**

_**Seattle, Washington**_

"Dad, stop picking at it! Jesus Christ, my best stitches in weeks and you're trying to rip them out!" Tate growled as she paced the length of her father's hotel room with her cell phone in hand. She had been trying to get a hold of Sam, Dean or John for the past three hours. But no one was picking up. No one. Every time she called one of their phones, she got the answering machine.

"They are good Tae."

"Damn right they are." She had taken off, right after the whole thing with the boys, the baby hunting and the demon. Just as promised. It had taken her a few days, but she finally found her father in Washington, just outside of Seattle. He was pretty beat up, more than she had expected and had spent nearly two hours patching him up. Bastard pain in the ass, she had to do stitches, nearly emptied her entire first-aid kit and almost force fed him enough aspirin to knock out three full grown horses. Dropping down on the foot of the bed next to him, Tate grabbed Ben by the chin and checked at the butterfly stitches she had put on his forehead, just above his eye. "Don't touch those. The damn butterflies aren't sticking right."

"All right." Ben said simply. "Why do you keep calling them? Is something wrong?"

"I haven't been able to get any of them. No one is picking up."

"Did you call Bobby?"

"Yeah, he said the boys were heading to Missouri or something. But he hasn't heard from them since the other day. And if they're not picking up, I have no fuckin' clue where they are." She said, sighing as she raked a hand through her hair.

"Tae, it's late. Why don't we get some sleep and try again in the morning." That was always Ben's way, if it didn't directly affect him, it was to put it off until the morning. Shaking her head, she pushed herself up off the bed, grabbed her bag and headed into the bathroom. Tate had taken out her contacts and was about to wash her make-up off when she reached for her phone again. Dialing Dean's cell phone number, she listened as it rang five times and then beeped loudly in her ear. Damn it. And this time, she didn't just get Dean's voice mail, she got one of those cool, crisp automated ones that told her the phone was out of range and there was no service.

"What the fuck!"

Little did she know that somewhere in a ditch, in a crumpled, twisted, bloodied mess was the Impala. With Sam and John up front, Dean in the back. All three out cold and the Demon sitting in the driver's seat of the semi that smashed into them. She had no idea that that was the reason why her calls were being ignored. There was no one conscious to answer.

Walking out of the bathroom, she did as her father said and crawled under the covers. She still had no idea what was going on elsewhere. If she did, sleep would be the last thing on her mind.

Hours later she woke up to the sound of her father shaving in the bathroom and what a trip that was, she felt like she was fifteen again. Shaking the cobwebs from her head, Tate groped along the edge of the nightstand and found her glasses. Sliding them on her face, the room came into focus and at the same time, her cell phone started to ring. It was that shrill default ringer she had set to tell her it wasn't a number she recognized. Grabbing it, yanking the charger out as she went, she flipped open her phone and brought it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Miss King?" What the hell?

"This is she, may I ask whose calling?"

"Officer Ron Harding with the Missouri State Police." _Police._ That word was one of the few that made her heart sink into her stomach.

"What is this about Officer?"

"You're written down as an emergency contact for a Mr. Elroy McGillicuddy and his two sons…." And then not only did her heart fall into her stomach, but her stomach along with her heart fell right to her feet. She had been gone for less than a week and the cops were calling her because she was an emergency contact? What the hell happened?

"What happened? Are they all right?"

"There was an accident ma'am…"


	27. In My Time of Dying

**What is that smell? Oh yes! New 'Season'! New Chapters! It's a nice smell, isn't it? I like it, hell I might even have it bottled. OK! This is SEASON TWO kids! Are we excited? I am. So here we are, IMTOD. I've never been so glad to see this episode. The first part of this chapter, Tate and Fancy talking on the phone, I've had ever since I saw this episode and I was pretty sure where I was going with Fancy as a character. I think Tate needed this conversation, she needed to hear from the 'outside' world. And who better to hear it from than Fance? This chapter doesn't have a title, I kept naming and renaming, so give it a read and if anyone's got any good ideas, pass 'em my way. Haha. **

**So here's what's going on. Exactly why wasn't John in Dean's room when the doctor gave him that 'miraculous' clean bill of health? This is what I think happened, if Tate was there of course. Haha. Hope you guys like this and remember, check out the poll I have on my page! –B.E

* * *

****In My Time of Dying  
_TBA_**

"Okay, so Sam's got the black eye from Hell and Dean just woke up, perfectly fine except that gnarly scar he's gonna have on his forehead, but what about you? Are you all right?" Tate smiled against the payphone's receiver, God Fancy's voice was the best thing she had heard in three days. It was the best sound ever. She wished she was out here with her, but at the same time, she was glad she wasn't.

"I'm all right." Tate said, running her fingers through her hair that was in desperate need of a washing. Hell, at this point she'd stick her head under a faucet and use dish soap, it was that bad. But she didn't have time for that right now, the boys were more important that her greasy hair. That was why rubber bands were invented.

"No you're not, you're lying. I can hear it in your voice. Wanna try again? How are _you_?" Tate could almost see Fancy sitting in one of the booths at the bar, back against the wall with one leg stretched out along the seat and the other pulled up into her seat. The bar sounded like a good place to be right now. "Tate? Are you still there?"

"Yeah."

"C'mon tell me. You need to talk to someone."

"I haven't slept in days, my head is pounding, my back is killing me, I feel sick to my stomach and I think I've lost at least fifteen pounds due to all the fuckin' crying I've done since I got here. Oh and I could use a drink." She said with an empty laugh. "Better?"

"Do you need me to come out there?"

"No! God no! As soon as we get out of here, things are going to get really bad, really fast. I can't have you out here Fance. I have Sam and Dean to worry about. Christ, if anything happened to you, man, I'd never forgive myself. And Sam would probably kill me."

"I always knew you cared." Tate tried to laugh but it came out strangled and tired. "Sorry, not the right time for jokes. But seriously, do you want me to…"

"No. Stay in Boston and keep an eye on things. If any weird shit happens, call me. I mean any weird shit, anything out of the ordinary, call me or Sam."

"So I get to stay home and play Junior Detective?"

"Fance, c'mon…don't do this to me."

"I know, I know. I'll keep and eye out. I promise, I'll stay put."

"Thanks." Behind her, Tate heard footsteps. Turning around, she found John there and gave him half a smile. Full smiles were being saved up for Dean at that moment. He came up to her, touched her elbow and leaned in.

"Can I talk to you?" He asked, his voice barely half of a whisper. Nodding at him, he went to sit down in one of the chairs that littered the waiting area and Tate went back to her phone call.

"…you better call home, keep me in the loop too Kingy." Fancy continued, not even aware that Tate had missed half of the conversation.

"I will. I gotta go, John needs me for a second."

"All right. Call me when you stop for the night."

"I will, I'll have Sam call too."

"And make sure you put Dean on the phone, I wanna yell at him for putting you through the ringer." Tate laughed, god did that feel good too.

"I will."

"I'll be waiting."

"I know Fancy, I'll call when I can."

"Be careful and keep those boys of ours safe."

"As long as they don't get me killed first." Fancy's laughed floated through the phone. Scratch that, that sounded way better than just hearing her voice. All she had heard for days was that damn heart monitor beating and occasionally crashing or Sam and John fighting. Laughing was a good sound.

"Hey, you can't die. Who would tend bar with me on Fridays?"

"You'd find someone."

"You're probably right. How hard is it to replace a reporter/photographer/Hunter/Wycker/bar tender?"

"It shouldn't be that hard, just put an add in the paper." Fancy laughed again and behind her, John cleared his throat; time to wrap this up. "I really gotta go now Fance. I'll call you later, probably from a hotel or whatever."

"Okay Kingy, remember what I said."

"I will and you remember what I said. Bye."

"Bye." Hanging up the payphone, Tate rolled her shoulders, popping them, and then made her way over to John. Dropping down in a chair next to him, she nudged his knee with her own and rested her head on his shoulder. Her father was with Bobby, trying to do something with the Impala. "What's up?"

"Who was on the phone?"

"Fancy."

"Sam's new girlfriend?"

"Yeah, kinda sorta. It's complicated."

"Not as complicated as you and Dean are, right?"

"No one is that messed up. So, why did you make me get off the phone?"

"We need to talk." Tate arched an eye brow at him. "Somewhere private, now." Nodding, she knew an order when she heard one and stood on her feet.

Ten minutes later, somewhere private turned out to be a small courtyard garden trapped between two wings of the hospital. Reddish brown brick streaked up all around them and neatly boxed in flower beds lined a cement walkway that linked on side of the courtyard to the other. Finding an empty bench was easy enough and John sat down first, Tate stood. She had a feeling being up and moving would be better.

"So…what? What do we need to talk about?" She asked, cracking her knuckles.

"Sam."

"Sam?" She asked, looking at him, her eye brow arched again. "What about Sam?"

"You and Dean need to watch out for him."

"John, we do. We do that every goddamn day. I've been doing it since I was ten."

"I know that Tatum, but…but you have to do more than that. You two, you have to save him somehow." John said, scrubbing his face with his hands. Tate popped her hip and dropped her hand down onto the bone.

"Excuse me? What exactly are we saving him from? You gotta give me more than that John."

"You have to save him, that's it. That's all that matters."

"Why? What happens if we don't?" She asked, moving a step closer and taking a harder look at her 'father'. "John?"

"If you don't…if you can't…you'll…the two of you, you'll have to kill him." Something inside her snapped and out of nowhere, her palm shot out and cracked John across the face. He didn't just say that to her, did he? He couldn't mean it, could he?

"Are you insane?! Do you hear yourself? Jesus Christ John…shit!" Pushing her fingers through her hair, she sighed and walked the length of the cement square around where she had been standing. "Shit! Shit! Does this have anything to do with the demon?" John nodded. "And you're laying this on me and Dean? Jesus…does Dean know?"

"Not yet."

"I hope you're telling him."

"I am."

"Good, because you will not leave this up to me to tell him. He'll kill me." Running her hand over her face, Tate sighed and started pacing. The words just did not want to sink it. They just didn't want to. It was too much to comprehend. "Okay, what does this have to do with the demon exactly?"

"It goes all the way back to that night in his nursery. When Mary died."

"So, the demon wanted Sam…because? What does this have to do with Sam?" She asked, jamming her hands into the pockets of her jeans; she needed them there or else there was a good chance that she'd lash out again. And she only got away with doing shit like that once.

"His visions."

"You know about those?"

"I've known for awhile."

"Shit John, when were you gonna tell us? I mean, that would've helped us a while back."

"I know it would, but I couldn't tell you then. I had to make sure."

"Make sure what? What's going on?" She snapped, glaring at the man sitting across from her. This was why she didn't get involved with him; there were times when he was of no use to her at all. None.

"That demon…"

"The Yellow Eyed Demon?"

"Yes, he's building an army."

"An army?" Tate asked, eye brows arching. "An army? So there's an army of what? Demons? Crazy ass black eyed sons of bitches coming after us?"

"No." John said, sighing. "Kids."

"Kids? Are you kidding me? You want me to…"

"Kids like Sammy. Kids who have visions and can do god only knows what else with their minds." If the look on John's face wasn't so serious and Tate didn't believe him, she would've been on the floor laughing. It was just too funny, if she had been normal it would've been anyways. But she had never been normal. Taking a deep breath, Tate cracked her knuckles and then her neck. Everybody had been right, there was a war coming. How could three people, five counting their fathers, six plus Bobby and maybe seven if Fancy came out, fight an entire demon/Special Kid filled army?

"John, as important as this is, I really don't feel like dealing with Hell on Earth right now. I want to go back inside, see Dean and maybe find a way to get him out of here sometime tonight, okay? I'll deal with the end of the world tomorrow."

"All right Tate, lets go." John said, getting up and threw his good arm over her shoulder, pulling her into him. "I'm telling you first because I know you'll know what to do."

"John, I have no idea what to do. It's kinda scary, all right. You just told me there's a good chance that I might have to put Sam down like a dog. I don't know if I'll know what to do when or if that time comes, all right? But when you tell Dean, don't tell him you told me first, okay? He'll be pissed."

"I won't."

The walk back inside was a silent one. Tate wasn't sure what to say to John anymore and her thoughts were racing so fast that she probably wouldn't be able to come up with a decent sentence anyways. Her head was spinning again, just like when she first came to the hospital and was helping Sam fill out all those (fake) insurance forms. Right now, in those moments between the garden and the doorway to Dean's hospital room, everything John had told her was put to the back of her mind and she took a deep breath. Staring into the room, Tate flashed a real smile at both Sam and Dean and slid out from under John's arm.

Watching Tate go to Dean's side, John smiled. She was right where she needed to be, right beside his boys. They were going to be able to handle whatever came next. They were going to be fine. The three of them. They were going to make it, no matter what happened. He just knew, they'd be all right.


	28. Observation 2

**Ok! I'm back! And here we go. This isn't **_**Everybody Loves a Clown**_**…seeing as I can't pick where I want to put Tate just yet still. I'm SOOOOOOO behind in everything. Anyways, this another one of those fun filled 'observations' that there's only one of before this. This one goes in those few opening minutes of **_**Everybody Loves…**_** when the boys are standing next to John's 'pyre', so I figured a little John and Tate background would be nice. They're not a 'pairing' in the word **_**pairing**_** because that's umh…ew! But they've got that whole father/daughter relationship goin' on. Tate's got daddy issues, but she has a John. Plus, I've always wondered how exactly did the boys get John's body? I have come up with an answer. **

**And this chapter is kind of a preview for this whole back story thing I'm starting called 'Night Vision'; think of this as a sneak peek. Look for 'Night Vision', it'll be up soon. **

**So before I let you all go, if you guys have any ideas for **_**Everybody Loves a Clown**_**, let me know. Maybe I'll get an idea tomorrow, seeing as I'm going to Madison Square Garden to see the Circus. Haha. That's enough from me, I hope you guys like this! Keep reading and review!—B.E **

* * *

_**Observation #2- Everyone Loves a Clown  
Night Vision **_

_**Tate's POV**_

I had been to funerals before, but this…this was so surreal. The boys—with the help of my father who had been playing funeral director—had managed to get John's body out of the morgue and the three of them set up this little…pyre, I guess that would be what you called it, out in the woods. I stood watch. I couldn't be back there helping them, it was just wrong to me somehow. Dean, Sam and my dad _needed _to do it; me, I was happy playing looking out. I didn't need to do what they needed to do, I had already said my goodbyes; whether I wanted to believe it or not, that was a separate issue.

Standing there with Sam on one side and Dean on the other, I tried to breath but it just wasn't working. The smoke in the air wasn't helping any either. Dad had taken off a few minutes before, he had another hunt somewhere else and some monster to kill. Whatever. And if he wasn't going back on a hunt, he was most likely at the Road House with Ellen. Yeah, I knew all about Dad and Ellen. But I didn't want to think about Dad and Ellen and whatever it was that they did and could keep to themselves, thank you, there were bigger problems now. Like what the hell were we going to do without John? How were we supposed to make it now? Dad was no use to us and there was only so much Bobby could do. And Hunters were dying left and right on us.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt a hand grab mine; Sam. Turning to my left to look at him, I felt my heart break. Tears just kept coming and coming and there was nothing I could do to stop them. No matter how hard I tried. Nothing. Reaching over, I tugged my sleeve down over my hand and stood on my tip toes so I could at least attempt to reach his face. I managed to wipe a few away, but more kept coming. It was weird; the very, very, very first time I met Sam, met John too—or at least could remember meeting John—Sam was crying. Okay, sure, Sam was a little over seven months old at the time, but there had been tears than too.

Unlike all the stories that had been told of my very first meeting with the Winchesters; ya know when I was ten and threw a toy at Dean? Yeah, that story. Well, that wasn't the first time. The very first time I had laid eyes on John was when I was four. We—meaning mom, dad, Garrett and me—had only been in our new house in Boston for about a month when John had shown up on the doorstep at three in the morning. Mom had wanted to go back to Lawrence for Mary's funeral, but John had said no; that it was quick and private and that was how he wanted it. Mom agreed and sent flowers. But back to John. The doorbell had rang at three in the morning, I heard it from my room, and heard mom and dad's bedroom door open and heard Dad walk by. Of course, like the good little hunter I would become, I followed after my father. I crept down the stairs behind him, and stayed there as he answered the door. Mom was up in the hallway, behind the wall watching me watching Dad and Garrett slept right on through. When Dad opened the door, I gasped. The man outside was huge. Bigger and taller than my dad, he had this cold, hard look about him and at that moment, scared the hell out of me. I nearly ran back up to my room to hide under the covers. But then I heard a noise I had only heard when Mom took me and Garrett to visit the Nelsons across the street; a baby cried. That got my attention real fast. I ran down the rest of the steps and slid right between my father and John. He asked Dad if I was really Tate; we had moved out of Kansas a year earlier for Dad's new job that kept getting relocated, finally settling in Boston, and I had never seen Sam up until then. Dad said 'yeah, it's Tate', and I kept reaching for the baby in his arms. I wanted to see! And when I finally got my way, I think that was the very first time I had fallen in love—yeah, I was four but still—I was in love.

John and the boys; Dean was oddly interested in Garrett—later on it would be the other way around—stayed with us for a few days before they left, going back on the hunt. And I didn't see either of them again until me and Garrett were ten; that's when the whole throwing of the toy at Dean's head story fits in.

Over the years, John had become a father to me. More than my own was at times. And I had become that daughter he never had. Only fitting for me to wind up with his oldest son right? In a normal world, I would've become his daughter somewhere down the road. He taught me how to shoot a gun, make silver bullets and even taught me Latin. Dad was there too, but John was always there. He taught me how to drive and it was his idea to take me out on my very first hunt. Dad was kind of against it, but he got over it after he saw me use a gun for the first time. But Dad was always off doing his own thing and John took his place. So yes, I was closer to him than my own father. Was it a bad thing? Yeah, sometimes, I guess.

And now, he was gone.

I felt a tear run down my own face and no one caught it for me. I just let it drip down to the ground. That was all right.

"Before…before he…" Sam's voice, choking on words and tears, pulled me out of my thoughts and I blinked over at him, my arm down at my side again. "Did he say anything to you guys? About anything?"

John had said a lot to me, but right now was not the place to tell Sammy about it. I had a feeling he told Dean the same thing he told me. But again, wrong time, wrong place.

"No. Nothin'." Dean ground out and I swore, I saw a tear roll down his cheek. That opened the flood gates and took the rest of my mascara with it.

"Tate?"

"No Sammy, he didn't say anything."

What was one little white lie gonna do? Our lives were built on them.


	29. Author's Note

**Author's Note**

OK gang, I promised myself I wouldn't post any author's notes on _Kings and Queens_, but I guess I'm gonna have to clear some stuff up. I did change my penname and it was a bad idea. haha. So I went back, took _back Bright _Eyez and just updated it a smidge. So now, instead of 'BE17', I'm 'BE20'. I'm going to be twenty years old and I've been here for three years, so my penname got a face lift.

Also, before I let you guys go, if you want to send me anything...ya know a PM or whatever...I haven't been getting any reviews/alerts and stuff from the site, so if you'd so kind, could you send it directly to my email that's in my profile and just write something fanfic related in the subject? I don't know if anyone else is having the same problem, but this sucks big time. haha.

I think I'm done. So, sorry for all the mix ups and stuff like that.  
--Still B.E


	30. Everybody Loves a Clown

**So I figured out what was wrong with this document. Fixed it! All better!--B.E**

* * *

**Everybody Loves a Clown  
Runs in the Blood**

Pulling her sunglasses out of her hair, Tate slipped them on over her eyes before walking out into the dry heat. She loved Bobby and had no problems with staying with him, but goddamn was it hot. Unlike the boys, her clothes hadn't been taken by the cops after the accident so she didn't have to wait for short sleeved shirt, shorts and the emergency pair of flip flops she carried with her. Making her way through the salvage yard, stopping every so often when something caught her eye, she made her way over to where Dean had set up shop, working on the Impala. He had been working on it for a week, and despite the 'slowness' of it, it was coming along pretty good. Rounding a corner, she found the Impala right where she left it a few hours earlier; up on blocks with two very familiar denim-clad legs sticking out from under it. Kneeling down next to aforementioned legs, she placed her hands on her bare thighs and peered underneath the car. Dean looked back at her; there was grease smudged across his cheeks and dirt, trails of sweat slipped down from his damp hair and an eyebrow arched in her direction.

"What?"

"You have no idea how sexy this is." She said, putting a hand on her knee. "You, under a car, filthy…I feel like I'm seventeen again."

"You don't look too bad yourself, nice shorts." He said, nodding toward the extremely short denim cut offs she was wearing. She had cut the jeans down after the knees finally gave in and the blood stains wouldn't come out; she had taken them all the way to up to about three inches below the front pocket.

"I made them myself, you should be proud."

"Oh, I am. C'mere and I'll show you how proud of you I am." Giggling, she watched as he shoved some over as much as he could on the dolly he was laying on and was about to squirm her way into the empty spot when she heard someone walking across the packed gravel.

"Don't you guys ever quit? At this rate, the car'll never get done." Sam said, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand as Tate rocked back on her heels, muttering something about feeling 'exactly like seventeen' under her breath. "So how is the car comin' along?"

"Slow." Dean said, pulling something down off the underside of the car.

"Yeah? Wonder why?" Sam asked, glancing at her and received the finger in response. "Need any help?"

"What, you under a hood? I'll pass. I'd rather have Tae under here."

"Again, wonder why. Need anything else then?" Sam asked as Dean slid out from under the car and bumped Tate with his knee as he sat up.

"Stop it, Sam."

"Stop what?"

"Stop askin' if I need anything, stop askin' if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise." Dean said, wiping his hands on a grease rag as Tate stood up, brushing the dirt off her legs and gently perched herself on hood of the Impala. She knew she wouldn't last very long sitting where she was but she was willing to try.

"All right. Dean, it's just…we've been at Bobby's for over a week now and you haven't brought up Dad once." Tate cringed, it had been a week. She had been trying not to think about it and Sam had called her on it the night before; that conversation ended in a dirty look and tears.

"You know what, you're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug –- maybe even slow dance." If it wasn't supposed to be a serious conversation, she would've laughed at Dean or snapped at him for treating Sam that way, but she didn't and kept her mouth shut instead. She knew her place in arguements like this one, silent and off to the side until she was needed to step in.

"Don't patronize me, Dean, Dad is dead! The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're actin' like nothin' happened."

"What do you want me to say?" Dean growled and that was her cue. Damnit, she was comfortable.

"Guys, c'mon. That's enough." She said softly, playing the role of peacekepper, as always.

"No Tate. I want you to say something Dean, all right? Hell, say anything! Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long, buried underneath this damn car!" Sam yelled, glaring at his brother. Tate sighed and rolled her eyes; she lost.

"Revenge, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Are you makin' heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Cause I sure ain't. But you know what, when we do finally find it--oh no, wait. Like you said, the Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it. We've got nothin', Sam. Nothin', okay? So you know what? The only thing I can do is I can work on the car." Dean yelled back at him.

"Well, we've got somethin', all right? That's what I came out here to tell you." Sam said, pulling a cell phone out of his back pocket. Tate arched an eye brow at it, what could be on that phone that could help them? "It's one of Dad's old phones. It took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this." He said, handing the phone to Dean as Tate floated to their sides, looking over Dean's shoulder down at the phone. It was a woman's voice that came out of the speaker and Tate went stiff.

"_John, it's Ellen…again. Look, don't be stubborn. You know I can help you. Call me."_

"That message is four months old." Sam said when it ended and flipped the phone shut. Tate raked a hand through her bangs and pushed her braided pigtails off over her bare shoulders. What the hell did Ellen Harvelle want?

"Dad saved that chick's message for four months?" Dean's voice pulled her out of her thoughts and she blinked at Sam, who was giving her the strangest look.

"Yeah."

"Well, who's Ellen? Any mention of her in Dad's journal?"

"No. But I ran a trace on the phone number, and I got an address."

"Sam, you didn't have to do that, you should've let me listen to it last night." Tate said, looking at him as she cracked her knuckles.

"You know Ellen?"

"Oh yeah, we go way back. I think we should stop in at the Roadhouse, its been a long time since I saw her." She said smirking and left the boys there to figure out how they were going to get there, since Tate had already banished them from the Mustang.

* * *

Tate pulled into the Roadhouse's make shift parking lot first, the Mustang kicking up clouds of dust in its wake and once she put the car into park, she adjusted her rearview mirror and watched the boys pull up behind her. She broke out into a laugh when she saw Dean's face in the mirror. The only car that Bobby had that was willing to turn over for him was a beat up old mini-van; Priceless. Watching them get out, Tate took a deep breath—hoping to smoother the giggles—and stepped out to join them. Her sunglasses were back down over her eyes and watched as the boys split up, looking to see if anyone was around.

"Sammy, where are you going? Just use the front door like normal people!" She called out, walking towards it.

"Is it locked?" Dean asked, coming up alongside her and looked in through a window.

"Of course its locked, Ellen isn't that stupid." She snorted and stepped back when Sam tossed Dean the lock pick and let him do his job. "I can not believe we're breaking into a bar."

"Unless you have a key…stop bitchin'."

"I only have the keys to Fancy's, you moron. Ellen and I aren't friends."

"Why? You know this woman, what happened?" Sam asked, looking down at her.

"Its personal." She muttered as Dean got the door open. Walking into the Roadhouse, Tate rolled her eyes. It was too quiet and too empty. And nothing like she could actually remember.

"I'd rather be at Fance's place." Dean mumbled and Tate laughed. "Don't tell her that either, or I'll kill you."

"Sure you will De, sure you will." She said as the boys went one way and she went the other. As they headed over to the pool tables, Tate made her way behind the bar. Like she had told them, she had been here once upon a time and remembered some of it. Grabbing a shot glass down off the wall, she watched as they nudged whoever was sleeping on the felt table top and plucked a bottle of tequila from behind her.

"Hey, buddy?" She heard Sam ask and rolled her eyes when nothing happened. "I'm guessin' that isn't Ellen."

"That sure as hell isn't Ellen." She called out, knocking back her second shot.

"Well do you know where she is, Tatum?"

"Don't talk to me like that Dean and no, I don't. I just know where the liquor is." Dean waved her off, probably this close to flipping her off, and Sam just shook his head before going into a back room while he stayed up front with her. Out of the corner of her eye, Tate caught a flicker of something pale and yellowish—blonde maybe?—and watched as it moved slowly across the bar. It was Jo. It had to be Jo. With a rifle in hand. How she hadn't seen her was beyond Tate, but she wasn't one to complain about being out of plain sight.

"Oh, God, please let that be a rifle." He hissed as she cocked the gun and pressed it harder against his back. Tate leaned forward, elbows resting on the bar and watched quietly. This was going to be fun.

"No, I'm just real happy to see you. Don't move." Jo said and Tate bit her knuckle a little harder, it was becoming a real struggle not to laugh.

"Not movin', copy that. You know, you should know somethin', Miss. When you put a rifle on someone, you don't wanna put it right against their back. Cause it makes it real easy to do…" He spun around before Tate even saw it and grabbed the gun from Jo, her face was almost as priceless as the mini-van. "…that." He said, putting the safety back on. A second later, Tate was almost on the floor laughing after seeing Jo punch him in the face and take the gun back.

"Jo that wasn't very nice sweetie." Tate crooned as she hopped up onto the bar, spun around and slid gracefully onto a barstool. "You could mess up his pretty face. And I don't want that to happen." She purred as Jo turned and trained the gun on her.

"What are you doing here Tate?"

"Just stopped by for a drink."

"Sam! I need some help in here!" Dean called out, not listening to the two of them, and put his hand up to his nose, hoping that he wasn't bleeding. "I can't see, I can't even see." He muttered, still checking for blood or maybe the dots in front of his eyes. Hearing the door to the back room open, Tate's eyes flicked that way and watched as Sam came in with his hands on his head.

"What the…?" She breathed and glared over at Jo.

"Sorry, Dean. I can't right now. I'm, uh…a little tied up." He said, nodding back toward whoever was behind him; Ellen stepped into view a second later. "How 'bout asking Tate?"

"Sam? Dean?" She asked, looking between the two. "Winchester?"

"Yeah." They answered at the same time.

"Son of a bitch. And Benny's little girl, I'll be damned. Hey Tate." Tate didn't return Ellen's smile, in fact she more or less growled in response.

"Mom, you know these guys?" Jo asked, taking the attention away from the obvious tension between Ellen and Tate.

"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys." She said, lowering the gun she had in her hand and laughed. "Hey, I'm Ellen. That's my daughter, Jo."

"Hey." The blonde said, copying her mother."

"You're not gonna hit me again, are you?" Dean asked her, rubbing his nose again.

"If you know what's good for you, you won't." Tate threatened as she pushed herself off of the barstool, bumping her shoulder into Jo as she went and quickly made her way into the back. The back room was the same, pretty much like a short order diner's kitchen with the basics: stove, fridge, freezer and a storage closet. Grabbing a towel from the closet and a handful of ice out of the freeze, she stood in front of the counter and started slamming it against the surface, breaking the cubes into chips. The light in the room changed as Ellen opened the door and came in, standing next to her.

"Kiddo, I think its crushed enough."

"Do not call me 'kiddo', I am not your 'kiddo'."

"Tate…"

"Or that, don't call me that either." She said, and tied a knot in the rag, hoping the ice would stay in place and then wheeled around, facing Ellen. "I don't know where you get off trying to be my friend. I remember everything you know and oh! Before I forget, don't ever call my father 'Benny' again. My mom called him that, not his adulteress whore mistress, okay?" Ellen's face was suddenly pinched and Tate smirked. Good.

"We've talked about this…"

"And I don't want to do it again. So, has dear old dad been here in the past week or so? Crying? In pain and in need of someone to lick his wounds for him? Just like he was after my mom went missing? Did he come here?" The pinched look grew deeper and her eyes went dark.

"He was here." Tate hissed low in her throat, a cat like sound coming out and mixing with her purple eyes. "He was here for about an hour last week, asked for his usual drink, dropped off some stuff that could be a new hunt and then left. That was it."

"How come I don't believe you?" When she sneered, her upper lip curled and nostrils flared, making the star shaped stud in her nose seem brighter than it actually was.

"It's the truth." Ellen said, looking at her and part of her knew it was true, but the part of her that watched her father run to someone else for comfort was still furious; forever a furious and angry teenage girl.

"Whatever." Tate snapped and grabbed the ice. She had her hand on the back of the door, ready to push it open when she paused and turned back at Ellen. "Oh and tell your daughter to stay away from Dean. I hear these things run in the family."

Back out in the bar, she dropped the ice into Dean's lap and strode toward the front door, telling them she'd be out in the car if they needed her.


	31. Bloodlust

Bloodlust

**Hey guys! New chapter! New Episode! Okay, so this takes place at the end of Bloodlust with the Gordon-bashing and it ends just after Dean tells Sam he can take a free shot. I didn't do the whole 'what if everything we killed didn't need to be killed' speech, because A: It's an amazing but very angsty scene and B: It's a Sam and Dean moment that I don't really feel like messing with. Like I said, amazing. All right, in other non-K&Q news, I posted a new poll. I am writing the previous Poll Stories, but I can't decide which ones I should post next. So I figured, 'leave it up to them!' So just like last time, zip over to my page, click the poll and pick your fave. New chapter: check, New poll: check. Ok, we're good. I'm shutting up now. Keep reading and reviewing!—BE **

**Bloodlust  
At Last!**

Wiping her hands on the back of her jeans, Tate skipped back up the small porch staircase that lead up into the house and headed back in. The sounds of muffled curses, crashes and punches being thrown were the first things she noticed as she stood in the doorway. Taking a deep breath, slowly she slipped one hand behind her back and grabbed the gun out of her belt. What had he done now? She was gone for five minutes! Not even that long as she helped Sam with Lenore. Barely five minutes! And now…god only knew what he was up to. Coming slowly around the corner and peering into the living room, Tate came into the hallway just in time to see Dean grab Gordon around the neck and drag him back toward the make-shift dining room. Behind them, the room was a disaster; the coffee table was nothing but large splinters, the curio cabinet was shattered and there were a couple Dean or Gordon fist shaped holes in the walls where someone had apparently missed. Feeling a pair of eyes on her, Tate glanced up and cocked an eye brow at Dean. His lip was split and there was a trail of blood making its way down his chin, the side of his face was already starting to bruise. Lovely.

"Hi baby."

"Hi." Hearing her voice, Tate saw Gordon stir just enough to lift his head and look in her direction. Cocking her head to the side, Tate reached out, fist balled and drove it into the top of his cheek bone. Dean laughed.

"What was that for baby?"

"I don't like the way he looks at me."

"He looks at you?" Dean asked and then glanced down at Gordon. "You look at her?" Before he got a response, Tate watched him veer slightly to the right and slam Gordon's head into the wall. "Oops. Sorry." Tate laughed this time.

Following them into the dining room, Dean dropped a rather dead looking Gordon into one of the many dining room chairs and hold him there for a second, making sure he didn't flop forward on them. What were they supposed to do with him now? Leave him there until someone found him? Leave him there to rot? Tate liked Option B.

"Babe, be a peach and find me some rope."

"Sure De." She said, rooting around in their duffle bag until she found what she was looking for; thick black rope that came from some sporting goods store a few states back. The guy who sold it to them said it was good for rock climbing, tough and durable. And it was a bitch to try and cut through. Handing the coil to Dean, she stood back and watched his lash Gordon to the chair.

"You know…" Dean started, "I might be like you, and I might not. But you're the one tied up right now." Coming up behind him, Tate slid her hands in where his had been and double checked the knots, tightening them as she went. Or well, double tightening them; Dean's knots were good, but hers were better. Taking a step back to make sure she hadn't missed any, she bumped into Dean and glanced over his shoulder at him.

"What? What are you staring at?"

"Just looking really." She said softly, ignoring the groan that came from their 'captive'. "Why do you think you're like him? You're nothing like him. I know you better than that." Dean looked away for a second, only to have her grab him by the chin and bring his face back toward hers. "And besides, you're really, really hot. Do you know how sexy you looked when I walked in? All bloody and beating the shit out of Ass-Face over there? Christ De…" The smirk on his face said it all. "What?"

"Sam's with Lenore, he's tied up and we have time. Wanna go talk somewhere else?"

"Somewhere private?"

"You got it."

"All right." Slipping her hand into Dean's, Tate trailed behind him as they left the dining room and just before she vanished around the corner, she waved back at Gordon. "Have fun Gordy, we'll be in the other room if you need us. We won't be too loud, I promise."

"Tate!" Dean tugged at her wrist and a second later, she was gone.

Hours later, when the sun finally decided to come up, Tate was standing in one of the small bathrooms she found on the first floor of the house and was pulling her long hair back in front of the mirror. Dean was off somewhere, doing something that she really wasn't interested in and outside the small bathroom-style window, she swore she heard a call pull up outside. Gently moving back the thin curtains, with one hand still in her hair, she saw Sam get out of the truck he had most likely been given by Lenore or one of her 'friends' and hurried to finish up. Now that Sam was back, they were probably going to leave soon. Good, being around Gordon was starting to give her the creeps. Leaving the mirror behind—her hair was a mess and not even a ponytail could make it look better—Tate retraced some of her steps and wound up back out where Gordon was still tied up, just in time to see Sam walk in from the other side of the room. Winking at him, she came up behind Gordon and after "accidently" bumping into him, she stood next to the boys.

"Did I miss anything?" Sam asked, looking between the two and then over to Gordon.

"Nah, not much." Dean said with a shrug.

"How's Lenore? Did she get out okay?" Tate asked, pushing a few pieces of hair back behind her ear.

"Yeah. All of 'em did." Sam said, looking over to Gordon. Tate sniggered at the look on his face.

"Then I guess our work here is done. How you doin', Gordy? Gotta tinkle yet? All right…well, get comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days, have 'em come out, untie you." Dean said, walking around the other side of the table and moving the knife away from Gordon. Tate had wanted to get rid of the damn thing last night, but he had said no.

"Ready to go, Dean?"

"Yeah seriously, can we leave?"

"Not yet." Dean told them, before going back to Gordon. "I guess this is goodbye. It's been real." Tate and Sam both saw it coming before it happened, the familiar tense in his right arm, the way his fingers flexed and then WHAM! Tate winced at the sound of fist connecting with face and then the clatter on Gordon's chair hitting the ground. "Okay. I'm good now. We can go."

Laughing under her breath, Tate looped an arm around Dean's waist and followed Sam out to the Impala. It was sitting in the same place in the driveway as it was the night before. Falling in step behind the younger Winchester, Tate was only a few paces away from the car when her arm jerked back and she saw Dean standing behind her. Arching an eyebrow, she waited for an answer.

"Sam?" Hearing his name, Sam turned and glanced at his brother.

"Yeah?"

"Clock me one." Tate laughed.

"What?"

"Come on. I won't even hit you back. Let's go." Dean said, bracing himself for a punch. Tate laughed harder.

"No."

Let's go, you get a freebie! Hit me, come on."

"You look like you just went twelve rounds with a block of cement, Dean. I'll take a rain check." Sam said, as he came up on the car. Oh hell no, she wasn't going to let this one pass her by. Cracking her knuckles, she waited for the right moment; when Dean was shaking his head at Sam and then struck.

"What the HELL Tatum!" Dean yelped, grabbing the side of his face. Sam nearly doubled over, laughing so hard and Tate just stood there, rubbing her right hand and trying not to laugh at the look on Dean's face. It was perfect. She had been waiting nearly twenty years for that. God it felt good.


	32. Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things

**Yes! She's back! Short, simple and to the point! New chapter! Simon Said is next, keep your eyes open for that! -- B.E!  
**

* * *

**Children Shouldn't Play with Dead Things  
Funeral Games**

Watching Angela tumble back into the open mouth of her grave, Tate jumped to her feet. She had been hiding behind a larger headstone and was waiting for her cue; and that was it. Racing across the damp grass, her boots threatened to give way and send her onto her ass, but somehow she made it over to the gaping hole in the ground without taking a header and easily dropped down the standard six feet. With a sickening thud, both feet landed on either side of Angela's thrashing legs and Tate looked down at her, spinning the large knife around in her hand before driving it down. God, she hated zombies.

"Wait, don't!" Angela screamed, arms flailing and trying to reach for Tate's face as she got a better grip on the knife. Cocking her head to the side, Tate arched an eyebrow before shrugging and finally plunged it all the way through her chest. It wasn't in her job description to listen to any creepy, crawly or undead's last wish. Angela's eyes had gone from nearly bulging out of her skull to gently falling closed, as if she was sleeping, and that was it. She was dead, again. For good this time.

"Tate?"

"Down here!" She called back, standing upright and sticking her arm up in the air, wiggling her fingers up at Dean. "Wanna help me out?"

Instead of grabbing her hand like she expected him to and helping her up out of the hole in the ground she volunteered to fall in, Dean dropped down next to her. Groaning, Tate's back scraped across a rock as she pressed herself against the damp dirt wall; adding another person to the small confines wasn't a good idea and Dean had taken up most of the room in the small space provided. Staring down at Angela, Tate watched his face closely, wondering what was going to happen next.

"What's dead should stay dead." A chill inched down her spine; that was the third time she had heard him say that on this case and each time it gnawed a little more at her. What exactly was he talking about?

"De?" She asked softly, placing her hand on his back as he bent down and yanked the knife out of Angela's chest. "De, are you all right?"

"I'm fine Tae, you wanna go up first or me?"

Who said chivalry was dead?

"Me first, I'm done being down here." She muttered, turning around and kicking a couple footholds in the dirt behind her. "Are you gonna help?" She asked, glancing over her shoulder to catch Dean slamming the coffin lid shut again.

"Yeah. Sammy, you up there!" Dean called, looking up for his brother.

"Right here!" Up above her, Tate saw Sam looking down at them and smiled up at him. Without even asking, Sam reached down with his good hand—Tate noticed he was cradling the other one pretty close to his chest—and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. Getting a good grip on Sam's arm, Tate kicked off against the wall and pushed herself up. A second later a yelp escaped her when she felt hands on the backs of her thighs, glaring down at Dean she 'accidentally' kicked some dirt down into his face.

"Hey Shorty." Sam chirped, with an annoying smile on his face, as she swung around and kneeled on the damp grass right near the mouth to the freshly dug grave.

"Shut up and here I always thought your brother was the asshole." She muttered, brushing her knees of and then taking the knife from Dean. A second later, the three of them stood together in the darkness, looking down at yet another grave site they had destroyed and now had to put back together. Wrapping her arms tighter around her chest, Tate squinted into the dark around them and tried to remember where exactly she had dropped her duffle bag; she needed a flash light and it was in there.

"I'll go get the shovels." Dean announced a minute later, a minute before Tate was going to say it. The tension was way too much for her, she was either going to scream, laugh hysterically or slug one of the boys in the mouth; probably Dean since he was usually closer. And the shovel thing had been her idea, her escape and damn him for stealing it. Fumbling along the side of her jeans, Tate felt around in her pocket and pulled out a lighter. The flame flickered in between her and Sam's faces for a few seconds.

"Please tell me he's not all right." She mumbled softly, looking at the younger Winchester.

"He's not all right."

Nodding, the flame died away and Tate stared off after Dean.

Filling in the grave took the rest of the night, long into the early morning and the three of them watched the sun come up. Tate had always hated filling in graves, it was just awful and irksome. And tedious and hard work, annoying, dirty, sloppy work. It took them hours and throughout that time, they hardly said ten words to each other, all together. It was just fill in, fill, pat the dirt down, fill and fill some more. Fill and fill some more until the whole was completely filled. Popping her spine, Tate stood up straight finally and swayed slightly, leaning into Sam's sweaty side. Sweat poured off all of them, caked hair to the backs of necks and sides of faces, clothes stuck and pulled and god, a shower was needed.

"Rest in peace." Sam finally said, patting down the last of the dirt and leaning back against Tate.

"Yeah, for good this time, okay?" Dean muttered, turning his back on Angela's grave and looking toward the car. God, she wanted to go. Yawning, she covered it with her hand and snapped her jacket up off the ground before running up behind the boys, catching up with them.

"You know, the whole fake ritual thing? Luring Angela into the cemetery? Pretty sharp." Sam said, smiling at Dean as Tate wormed her way between the two of them and looped an arm around both of their waists; Dean had taken her shovel from her a few minutes before.

"Thanks."

"But did we have to use me as bait?"

"Because I might scream like a girl, but you definitely run like one Sammy. You make good bait, you're easy to catch." Tate told him, smirking up at him and laughing harder when Dean laughed with her. Sam scowled down at her and absently rubbed his wrist.

"She's got a point College Boy, you do run like a girl."

"You both suck, shut up. Anyways, I think she broke my hand."

"You're just too fragile. We'll get it looked at later." Dean said as they reached the Impala. Slipping away, Tate grabbed the shovels and headed for the trunk. She knew there was more than one reason for why they had stopped, one last chance to say goodbye to Mary. She had snuck off for a few minutes during the night to say goodbye and besides, it wasn't her moment; it was theirs. Popping the trunk, she dropped the three shovels into the familiar spot and pushed her bangs off her forehead. She needed a long shower to wash away all the gunk and get the burning in between her shoulders to stop.

"You're not saying goodbye?" Tate asked, fiddling with a gun as Dean came up behind her to drop his duffle bag in the trunk.

"Tate…"

"Just asking, fair question. Where's Sam?"

"In the front seat, we need to stop somewhere to get his hand looked at."

"I'll look at it in the car, don't worry. You sure you don't wanna say goodbye?" She asked a second time as she untied her long sleeve shirt from around her waist and threw it on top of Dean's bag.

"I said no."

"Don't get bitchy De, I'm not in the mood to deal with it." She said, standing on her tip toes and stretched, pulling the trunk down with a loud slam. Pulling her shirt off her damp back, Tate turned around and looked at him, arching an eyebrow. He looked like he was about to say something. "What? What's wrong?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Why do you ask? You know you can De."

"Do you ever go visit Garrett's grave?"

The question hit her like a ton of bricks, she hadn't expected him to ask that. She had been ready for something else, something stupid. Something more like Dean and more like Dean would normally ask her, hell she expected a sex joke or something. Tucking a wayward piece of hair back behind her ear, Tate looked over at him and chewed on her bottom lip.

"Yeah, sometimes. He's buried up by my aunt's place in West Newbury, you know that."

"But you do go?"

"Yeah, usually on our birthday if I'm home and I try to get up there around the holidays. Why?"

"Just curious." Dean said, squeezing her elbow before heading around to the front of the car and getting into the driver's seat. Somewhere in the back of her head, Tate felt like a question was left hanging between them, something along the lines of 'would you visit me?' and that chill she had felt earlier returned.


	33. Simon Said

**Hey guys! Here's Simon Said. Now, this is kinda short and isn't in the episode at all, I made up a scene between Andy and Tate. I really like this episode, I just had no idea where to plug Tate in this time around and I really like Andy, so ta-da! It's nothing special, just some little random conversation they have in the back of the Impala. Takes place right after Andy figured out that Webber is his twin and right before Sam's vision up at the dam or wherever. Just givin' everyone a heads up. Enough for me, "No Exit" is next...it's gonna be fun. haha. Hope everyone likes this! Keep reading and reviewing! -- BE!**

**Simon Said  
****Evil Twins 101**

"I have an evil twin."

Rolling her eyes, Tate lifted her head up enough off the back window and glared over at Andy. That had to be the twentieth time he had said that in the past hour and she was getting ready to punch him. Maybe square in the jaw, so it hurt whenever he'd try to talk. Leaning forward to look out Andy's window, she could see Sam and Dean in the gas station's little crappy quick-mart; God she needed a cup of coffee. And a cigarette. And some duck tape for Andy's mouth.

"I can't believe I have an evil twin." Tate's blunt black nails bit into her palm.

"Will you shut up?!" She snapped, putting her head back against the cool window; that dull ache was back again. Good going Andy. "If I hear 'evil twin' one more time, I'm punching you in the face. Got it?!" Andy nodded, inching closer to his door and further away from Tate. "Jesus and what do you know about having a twin brother? They're not that bad."

The younger man arched an eyebrow at her. What was she talking about now? Sam and Dean hadn't mentioned anything to him earlier back at the records office. So what was Tate talking about, twin brothers and all?

"How do you know?"

"Used to have one." She said, softly, pulling out her silver zippo lighter and flicking it to life. The orange glow from the small flame cast flickering shadows up on her face and Andy peered closer, trying to get a glimpse of her weird colored eyes.

"Used to?"

"Yeah," Tate shrugged, slapping the lighter closed and put it away, "he died when we were eighteen."

"Umh…ah…what happened?" Andy asked, testing the waters and moved back toward the door.

"Car accident."

"I'm sorry." Her eyes darted up from her finger nails and landed on his face. Tate smiled softy at him, pushing a piece of hair back behind her ear. Something inside of Andy figured she didn't make that face too often, probably not even at Dean.

"It's okay, it's been more than ten years ago, it's okay."

"So, did you two…ya know…have that Twin Thing?" Arching an eyebrow, Tate shook her head and tried not to laugh. "Stupid question?"

"No, not stupid, just funny. We didn't have it, but we just knew things about the other. We could finish each others sentences and all that, but we didn't have a Twin Thing. I didn't know what he was thinking and he didn't know what I was. That was a godsend when me and Dean got together." Tate sniggered, shaking her head again and remembered all the times Garrett had stormed out of the room whenever her and Dean were together.

"It was fun then, right? Having a twin?" Andy asked, a beat later.

"It would've been more fun if we were identical, we could've switched places and all that, but there would've been problem, seeing as he was my brother and I was his sister. But we used to get into a lot of trouble and when we were really young, we did look a lot alike. So it was divide and conquer, you know? We had a lot of fun." She mused softly, twisting the ring she wore on her thumb around a few times.

"Do you miss him?"

"Everyday." Nodding, Andy took his eyes off Tate and looked back out his window; Sam and Dean were paying for whatever they had bought and from the looks of it, it looked like a lot of junk. And coffees, four of them. Good, he needed one. Maybe the caffeine would calm his nerves and he'd be a little less twitchy, which also annoyed Tate since she had glared at him when he started tapping his foot earlier.

"I still can't…"

"Andy, if you finish that sentence, I swear to God, I will end you right here, right now." Tate muttered through clenched teeth. Andy nodded and went back to staring across the parking lot, Sam and Dean were on their way out.

"Hey Tate…?"

"Yeah Andy?"

"Quick question, were you the good twin or the evil twin?"

"Evil, all the way."


	34. No Exit

**All right! Here's No Exit, finally right? haha. Anyways, just like the title says, this is the Prequel to _Blonde vs. Brunette. _So if you haven't read that, go check it out. And if you have, read it again. haha. Let know what you think! -- B.E **

**No Exit  
****Prequel to a Fight**

Chewing on the purple pen cap, Tate spun the cursor around on the screen and sighed. Nothing. Not a damn thing. No where on the goddamn internet did it say just how long Holmes kept the girls in the walls and where. Of course not, that would be too helpful. Instead of banging her head on the counter top like she wanted—no matter how fun it might've sounded—Tate sighed and backup all the way back to Google, typing 'Murder Castle' into the search bar. Fifteen minutes later, the urge to slam her head down onto the granitite counter top returned. Putting her face in her hands, she took a deep breathe and closed her eyes. If all else failed, take a break and try again later. Somewhere in between sorting out all she knew about H.H Holmes and the apartment building itself, she realized the sounds of Sam and Dean literally coming through the walls had stopped and was replaced with footsteps. Footsteps that were coming closer and closer to their apartment.

A beat later, the door opened and Sam and Dean flew in.

"Okay, the Tall One, the Short One, so umh…geniuses, where's the Blonde One?" Tate asked, sliding down off the bar stool she had been perched on. While Sam, Dean and Jo went tearing down the walls, she stayed and did research. Not because it was helpful or anything, but because there was a good chance she'd run Jo's head into a wall if she went with them. There was only so much blonde-ness she could take and she had reached her damn limit.

"He's got Jo." Dean growled, low in his throat and glaring daggers at her. Sam stood behind his brother, scrubbing a hand over his face and leaning against the counter across from her.

"Wait…what? Where's Jo again?"

"He took her Tate; Holmes got her while her and Dean were working their way through the walls." Sam said quietly, looking at her. Tate felt the words sink it, literally washing over her and settling somewhere in the back of her head with all the other trivial facts she had collected over time. So Malibu Hunter Barbie got ghost-napped. Oh now that was priceless. Along with feeling what Sam had said wash over her, she felt a smile tug on her lips.

"Tate, this isn't funny." Ignoring Sam, she turned to Dean.

"Now, let me get this straight. Just to clear things up and have it make sense in my head, you lost Jo." She said, looking up at the older Winchester with a look on her that had to have been a cross between pure joy and two shakes away from hysterical laughter.

"Tatum…" Dean warned.

"No, no, no, I'm not done. You lost Jo?" Dean didn't say a word; just the scowl on his face seemed to go a little deeper. "_You_—Dean Winchester, _**the**_ Dean Winchester—lost Jo." Again not a word. "You. Lost. Jo?"

"Son of a bitch Tate! How many times do I have to say it?!"

"Just once more baby…" She purred, walking right up to him and put a hand on his heaving chest. Oh yeah, he was pissed. "Say it one more time baby, slow. Real slow, so I can enjoy it. Talk dirty to me." Dean growled and batted her hand away, the scowl so deep now Tate swore she could almost see inside his head. "Yeah, like that baby."

"Knock it off Tate." Sam scolded from the kitchen. "We need to find her, so stop it."

"Fine, you two find her. I'm not."

"Tate!"

"Dean! What did she do? Think she could go off on her own and find Holmes all by herself because she doesn't need training wheels anymore? No. This is her fault, I told you this would happen. I told you and what do you do, you don't listen. And now she's gone and now we have to explain to Ellen that the brilliant Winchester boys got her only kid eaten by a damn pissed off ghost. Good job."

"We are not calling Ellen until we know she's safe."

"You don't want to, I'll do it. Revenge is oh so sweet."

"Revenge? Tate, what the hell are you talking about? And give me that." Sam said, grabbing her cell phone out of her hands and stuffing it in his jacket pocket. "Now, what do you mean by revenge?"

"Her and my dad had a thing, right before everything with my mom happened. Ellen gave my dad that Wendigo hunt, the camping trip from hell ya know. She ruined my family, so I think it's high time I repaid the favor."

"No. Absolutely not." Dean literally put his foot down and Tate practically growled back at him. "We'll call her when she's safe. Go get your stuff, you're helping."

"Over my dead body."

"Not today sweetheart, Holmes only likes blondes and I know for a fact that the curtains and the drapes are not blonde." Tate almost looked offended, almost, while Sam looked like he was going to be sick to his stomach and all over the floor. Rolling her eyes, Tate balled her fist and slammed it into his shoulder. "What was that for?!"

"You want my help, you'll stop being such an asshole. And look what you did to Sam." She said, nodding toward the too pale face of one Samuel Winchester. "If he heaves, you're so cleaning it up." She muttered, turning on her heel and heading toward the smaller of the two bedrooms. "I hope we get there too late and she's already ghost-chow."

"Tatum!"

"Yeah, yeah…asshole. I hate blondes."


	35. The Usual Suspects

**Hey guys. New K&Q chapter. I don't really like this episode, "The Usual Suspects" even though I thought having Linda Blair guest star was genius. So I decided to take the whole 'I ran a background check on you, Sam' scene and do it for Tate and use it just to explain some more about her. Added some new history, fixed others. And its full-o-snark. Fun, fun all around. haha. Let me know what you think! Keep reading and reviewing! --WQ (formerly BE) ****

* * *

**

**The Usual Suspects  
Background Check**

"Can you get your feet off the table?"

Looking up from her nails, she had been in the middle of chipping away her silver nail polish, Tate glanced up at the severe looking woman standing in the door way and sighed dramatically as she swung her boot clad feet to the floor; making sure she stamped as much dried mud free as she could on the poorly waxed tiles below. This wasn't going to be fun, but Tate was determined to make it as interesting as possible. The woman before her was somewhere between her mid forties to early fifties, with lighter dirty blonde hair and a no nonsense look at her. Peachy.

"Are you the lady they said would be me coffee? I'm dying here." Tate asked, scooting her chair further under the table and leaning her elbows on top, steepling her fingers under her chin. "I could really use a cigarette too. Got one?" The woman scowled. "Skip the cigarette, just a coffee? Black, with two sugars?"

"I'm Officer Ballard. And no, there won't be any coffee."

"Well that sucks. You're holding me here for something I didn't even do. 'Suspicion of Murder'…." Officer Ballard arched an eyebrow at her. "…don't look so shocked, your caked on foundation might crack. Your partner was in here a little while ago, gave me a brief overview of how screwed we kinda are. He said you'd bring coffee, by the way."

"I didn't."

"I got that the first time you said that." Tate muttered, rolling her eyes. "So, I've got a question. Am I being held on the murder charge too? Seeing as you picked me up at a bar, no where near either of the boys?"

"We'll see."

"Cryptic doesn't sit well with me lady."

"It's Officer Ballard, Miss King."

"Are you the Bad Cop? Because your partner was way nice to me than you're being right now." Tate asked as the lady-cop sat down across from her and opened a good sized manila file folder, not too thin but thick enough to give Tate a chill. Was that her folder?

"I'm the Good Cop actually. Bad Cop's in with your boyfriend."

"Huh…pegged you all wrong. Must be the makeup. You look like an angry drag queen." Tate muttered, going back to picking at her nails. Officer Ballard just stared at her, scowling at unfocused and uninterested eyes, and then took a deep breath before opening the file she brought with her. "Oh and for the record, Dean's not my boyfriend."

"Lets get started, shall we?"

"Go for it; tell me something I don't know." Another wasted scowl bounced off Tate, not that she cared. _Glare and scowl all you want_, she thought, _doesn't faze me in the least. _

"Tatum Elizabeth King, born on April 14th 1979 in Lawrence Kansas to Benjamin and Serena King. Your twin brother Garrett was born the same day…"

"If he was born on a different day, we wouldn't have been twins then would we?" Tate asked, picking her head up and smirking across the table. Ballard blanched and set her jaw, this was going to be a long day. "He was born five minutes after me; making him younger than me…just ya know…if you wanted to know the rest."

"It says that in your file."

"Good to know. You can keep going, I won't say anymore. Scout's honor." She even held up two fingers.

"Fine. You and your family stay into Kansas until you and your brother were three and then you just up and moved to Boston. What was that all about?" Ballard asked, leaning forward and resting her chin on her fists. Tate merely shrugged. "What happened? New job? Better opportunity? Family? Or was your father running from something?" Tate's heart stopped pounding for a second. She had heard rumors about the reason behind their move, not many good ones, but a few involving something 'unexplainable' that happened when Ben and John were still in the Marines, a friend of theirs had died and Ben swore up and down that his ghost haunted him all the way back to Boston. "Does it have anything to do with Justin Runnels death?"

"My dad said Justin's ghost literally followed him home and decided our house was a great place to haunt. Apparently, dad tried everything to get rid of Justin, spells, séances, had the house blessed a few times, did an exorcism and even found where Justin was buried and salted and burnt his bones. Nothing. So we moved. Justin didn't follow us to Boston." Tate said, looking Ballard in the eye. "Ghosts are real, by the way."

"No they're not."

"Yes they are, lots of things are real. Wanna explain these?" Tate asked, pulling up her shirt sleeve and sticking her tattooed wrist into Ballard's face. Two round puncture wounds, faded and silvery as if they had scared over, right below the large vein leading up to her hand. "Vampire bite."

"Vampires don't exist." Ballard said sternly, looking at Tate as if she was insane. Which she possibly was. "You're lying and just trying to stall for Dean. Vampires aren't real, it was probably some sick freak boyfriend of yours."

"Hey, I've dated freaks, Dean's a freak, but he just doesn't come with retractable fangs. None of my boyfriends have. You don't want to believe me, that's fine. Vampires are real, so are ghosts and we moved to Boston because one was haunting our house. Keep reading from the file." Tate said, nodding toward whatever little snippet of trivia came after her family's relocation. "It should get interesting soon. Like edge of your seat interesting."

"…A few years after the move, when you were six, you take a family camping trip and your mother goes missing. Is this the interesting part?" Tate gave her a sharp nod. "From here, all you did was move around a lot. A lot. Why?"

"Dad wanted to see the good old US of A the way a man should, in a muscle car with two screaming brats in the back seat."

"Are you always such a smartass?"

"Only when I'm being held by a useless lady-cop for something I wasn't even involved with."

"But you were, weren't you? That's your thing, you're always involved. You've always been, haven't you? Ever since your father met up with John Winchester after your mother and Mary Winchester deaths. Why? Why'd he meet up with John?"

"They're friends, my dad needed some help. John helped."

"Helped with what?"

"Life. Next question please."

"Where's John Winchester now?"

"Not here, maybe he took the wrong turn off or something. How should I know?" Tate added a shrug for extra effect; she wasn't telling this woman he was dead. Let her figure that part out on her own.

"Let's talk about something else now." Ballard said, getting frustrated with her as she ran a hand across her face. "You, you brother and father meet up with the Winchesters and you continue to move around for a while, correct?" Tate shook her head yes. "And then all of a sudden, you break away and move to Boston? Why Boston? Why'd you stop?"

"I like Boston, I like the colors the leaves turn in the fall."

"Did it have anything to do with Garrett dying?" Ballard asked, ignoring the whole leaf comment entirely. "It says here it was a car accident, but Dean was driving. Did he kill your brother? Is he a murderer?" Tate's eyes went dark, as she leaned over the table and hovered just in front of Ballard's face. Her long dark red hair fell around her face like a curtain and Ballard could smell the cigarette smoke on her breath.

"If you wanted to know about Dean, all you had to was ask. But Dean isn't the one I'd be afraid of."

"I could have you booked and thrown in a cell, right now." Ballard challenged, staring right back into Tate's eyes.

"On what charges? Threatening an officer?" Ballard's eyes flicked down to the first page in the file folder and skimmed until she found what she was looking for, underlining it with her thumbnail.

"_Murder, Grave Desecration, Theft, Fraud, Arson, Grand Theft Auto, Impersonating an Officer, Kidnapping, Endangering a Minor…_There's more, would you like me to continue?" That was a pretty impressive list, more than Tate actually thought there'd be, that was for sure.

"Nope. I'm good. Are we done now? I'm done talking to you, I want a lawyer."

"For what?"

"So I can tell them how much a bitch you've been to me. And I want my damn coffee; black with two sugars." Tate snapped, as she slammed back into her chair and threw her feet back up on the table, more loose mud coming off of the soles of boots. Pulling a receipt out of her pocket from some gas station along the way and grabbing the pen Ballard had resting on top of the file, Tate scribbled one word on the back of it and shove it toward Ballard.

"What's this?"

"Give it to Dean for me." Unfolding it, Ballard stared down at her looping handwriting and felt her brown furrow.

"Will-O'-The-Wisp?"

"Yeah, code word." It meant that she'd be back at the hotel and she was safe. It was their safe word when hunts went bad. Now, they usually came through text messages.

"A code word?"

"More like a safe word, when things get _nasty_." Tate winked and Ballard went a little pale. "Oh and before you go, just in case there are any gaps in that magic Tate-only folder, I'm an Aries, like to go shopping on the Sunset Strip when I'm in California, my favorite color is teal, if I had a favorite ice cream it would be mint chocolate chip, my car was my eighteenth birthday present and my best friend is a bar tender." Ballard rolled her eyes, after having it up to *here* with Tate, and walked out of the room. Tate sniggered and waited a second before opening her mouth again. "Don't forget my coffee!"


	36. Crossroad Blues

*******Gasp!* She lives. haha. Enough said. _Croatoan _anyone? All ideas are welcome.**

* * *

**Crossroad Blues  
Shout at the Devil**

Walking out into the hallway, Tate closed the door to Evan's office behind them just enough to keep their conversation private and to keep one ear on Evan. God only knew what was going to happen next with those damn Hell Hounds. By the time Tate took her eyes off Evan, Dean was already walking down the hall and heading for the door. Great, just great. What the hell was he up to now?

"You all right?" Sam asked, pulling Dean to a stop.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be? Hey, I've got an idea." Dean said as he pulled out the hoodoo bag George had given them back at his apartment. "You throw George's hoodoo at that hellhound. Keep it away from Evan as long as you can. I'm gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon."

"You are not summoning a demon." Tate scolded, stepping between the boys and put a hand on Dean's chest, shoving him back a little. "Are you nuts?"

"Maybe a little. But I can trap it. I can exorcise it, and I can buy us time to figure out something more permanent."

"Yeah, but how much time?" Sam snapped, trying not to shout at his brother. Tate's fingers curled into the lapels of his leather jacket and tugged a little; she'd be damned if he went through with this stupid plan.

"I don't know, a while. I mean, it's not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine."

"No." Tate and Sam said at the same time, putting their feet down. It was final. He wasn't going through with this.

"You two aren't allowed to say no. Not unless one of you have a better idea."

"I have a better idea…" Tate started, "…we move Evan somewhere safe and actually think this one out. Not running in guns blazing like a bunch of assholes, Dean. I'm not risking this for some stupid guy who didn't want his wife to die. I don't want us dying to keep him alive."

"Tate's right Dean, so you can forget it, all right? I'm not letting you summon that demon."

"And why not?"

"Because I don't like where your head is at right now, that's why not."

"What are you talking about?"

"The Crossroads, De." Tate said softly. "Your dad." He actually slapped her hand away from his coat and pushed her back a step. Any softness left in her eyes vanished with that shove. Bastard, she was trying to help and he was, as usual, pushing her away.

"We don't have time for this."

"Make time Dean."

"You're going to let a man die because you want to talk about my feelings Tate?"

"I'd rather a stranger die than watch you get yourself killed, so yes. I'm willing to let him die so we can talk."

"Unreal."

"Screw you and listen to us for once." That got him to stop in his tracks and turn back to look at her and Sam.

"You think maybe Dad made one of these deals, huh? Hell, I've been thinking it. I'm sure you've been thinking it, too." Sam said, when he had his attention finally.

"It fits, doesn't it? I'm alive, Dad's dead. The yellow-eyed demon was involved. What if he did? What if he struck a deal? My life for his soul."

No one said anything for a long minute, the three of them just staring at each other. As is they weren't sure what to do or to say or how to act. Yeah, that wasn't awkward. Not one goddamn bit. Evan broke the silence from within his office, screaming something about hearing a Hell Hound outside somewhere. Tate swore under her breath and watched one of the infamous silent Winchester exchanges go down right before her very eyes.

"Just keep him alive, okay." Dean said, before turning on his heel and heading for the front door.

"Dean!" Sam called, but Dean was already gone. Looking at Tate, she bit her lip and stared off after Dean. "Tate?"

"Stay with Evan, do whatever you have to do. I'll go with Dean, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid or crazy." She said, before running after him and leaving Sam to stand there in the hallway.

It wasn't hard to catch up with Dean, but wrestling down the urge to slug him or cuff him upside the head was the hard part. Sometimes, despite all the years she had known him, she just didn't understand him. That frustrated her to no end. And he said she was complicated. By the time she came flying out the front door and down the steps, the Impala's engine was rumbling and from where she was standing, it looked like he was about to peel out of the driveway. Over her dead body. Wrenching open the passenger's side door a little harder than necessary, hard enough to get him to cringe and growl under his breath, Tate dropped into the vinyl bucket seat and glared over at him.

"Next time you walk away from me like that, it better be for good." She hissed.

"I don't have time to talk about this right now, we have things to do. And why are you here anyways?" He snapped, finally peeling out just like she had thought.

"To make sure you don't do something stupid like sell your soul or whatever just to see if you're right." Dean bristled and Tate knew she was getting somewhere. "Look, if you want to be a martyr about this and go die for some stupid cause because you're too hard headed to just accept what John did, than go for it. But you're not doing it with me here and you're not doing it for some jackass who already sold his soul ten years ago and is afraid to pay up." She snapped, her voice on the verge of breaking into an all out scream. "I will not lose you to some goddamn demon because you want answers."

"Don't you get what he did?! He's dead because…"

"So help me god, if you finish that sentence I'll kill you myself and you can go have this conversation with your father in person. Do you understand me?" And he actually nodded. "I know why he did what he did; I'd do it for you too. I'd do it for Sam. But what you're thinking of doing for some random guy is stupidity. And that's why I'm here." She said, rolling her eyes before leaning back in the seat, putting her head against the cool window.

"Would you have done it for Garrett?" Dean asked a few minutes later, after she had turned on the radio and found something loud to block out the silence that had somehow managed to fill the car.

"I thought about it, a lot. And there's a crossroads right outside of Boston. I went there once."

"And?"

"And anyone who even thinks about doing that, trading their life for to bring someone back or keep them around for ten more is either really desperate or really fucking stupid."

The rest of the drive was a silent one.


	37. Croatoan

**Here's the next episode. We're getting there guys. I have a bunch written, just need to post them. Let me know what you think! -- Sam**

* * *

**Croatoan  
Liar, Liar Pants on Fire**

"Did you know?" Sam asks, looking at me. I run my fingers over the mouth of my beer bottle, trying to come up with something to say. Because 'yeah Sammy, I knew what John said, that we might have to put a bullet right between your eyes' doesn't really have a nice ring to it.

I'm going to lie. To lie to Sammy. I've never done that, okay telling him the monster under his bed when he was six was actually Dean doesn't count; I was a malicious little ten year old brat. But other than that 'tall tale' I've never lied to Sam. I always told him the truth. Like when he asked what really killed Mary, or what John really did and where he went, why Dean slept with a gun wedged between the bed and nightstand and if Stanford was really the place for him.

I'm going to lie to Sam. I lie to Dean almost hourly and feel nothing, but right now, as I look at Sam, I feel like I'm going to be sick. Not just 'eh…sick' either, like dying, bodily ill sick. I guess it can be considered guilt, if that's how you really want to look at it.

But I can't tell him the truth. I'd rather lie to him than have him hate me. He'll hate Dean for not telling him for a while, but I'm supposed to tell him these things. To tell him that one of the last things his father told me before he died was that if things go bad, we might have to kill him. That his dad knew all about the 'Special Kids' and that Yellow-Eyed Bastard. That John told Dean the same thing he told me. I'm supposed to tell him that because of his freaky mind-meldy powers, he might be immune to that creepy ass demon virus. And that that's more than okay and he's still Sammy and isn't a freak and that I really don't care either way. Because no matter what, once this is all behind us, he's still Sam and I have to tell him that.

"Tate?"

"No Sammy, John didn't tell me anything. All of this is new to me too."

I'm a good liar, nothing shows on my face or in my eyes. My body language doesn't change and I have no visible tells. I'm also one hell of a poker player. But on the inside, my heart is slamming against my ribs and I can almost feel it rattling my necklace, I can taste my last sip of beer starting to put itself in reverse and my stomach clenches so hard I want to double over and scream.

I want to be sick.

"All right." He nods and turns away from me.

_"Better than hating you, better than hating you, better than hating you," _the voice in the back of my head chants.

_"Shut up!" _That might be the saner half of me, the half that knows lying to is wrong and I shouldn't be doing it. Whatever. Who knows anymore really.

Dean knows I'm lying, he always does, even when I lie right to his face, nose to nose. He'll say something later, when we're alone, after Sam falls asleep. So for now, let him glare and clench the steering wheel harder each time he looks at me in the rear view mirror when we take off. I don't care.

Once we're in the car and the music's playing and there's nothing except an endless stretch of highway between us and the next hotel, I'll have a few hundred silent miles to convince myself that I did the right thing by lying to Sam.


End file.
